Embraced by the Darkness
by Brigade
Summary: There is a reason why everyone wants a piece of Harry Potter; the twelve-year-old is considered a prodigy by the Wizarding World, after all. But Harry has chosen his side. The Headmaster and Minister of Magic can try as they might - Harry is a dark wizard. Now...if only he could get in touch with the elusive, recently resurrected Voldemort. Sequel to Enveloped in the Darkness.
1. And so it Begins

**Welcome, one and all! I'm back and Darker than ever! Insert as many light strobes and streamers as you wish.**

**This is the sequel to my story Enveloped in the Darkness. I would strongly suggest reading it first.**

**Let me set this chapter up, shall I? In this first chapter, we see the immediate aftermath of Harry and Voldemort's exploits at the end of the former's first year at Hogwarts. It is written from the perspective of Severus Snape. **

**The chapter is a bit short, but it is very similar to the first chapter of EitD; it should set everything up nicely. **

**Can you predict what will happen next? Leave me a review. If you come close, I'll give you a cookie or something.**

**Enjoy. And follow this story on Twitter at BrigadeEitD while you're at it!**

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**EitD2 Chapter 1: And so it Begins**

Awful. Terrible, actually. Complete and unrepentant stupidity.

Severus Snape marked the parchment with a caustic, scrawled "D" for Dreadful.

The early morning was bitter and cold. He had gotten a few hours of sleep last night, but now sat in his chamber's living area, grading papers in near darkness by the early morning hearth. Did the lack of light hurt his eyes, you ask? Please. He was a wizard.

He was also a wizard that did not _want_ to be grading papers, necessarily – hell, he got enough of the pubescent miscreants during the day. However, he was up at this ungodly hour – and if you asked him based on his own experiences, there _was_ no god to forsake this hour – simply because he knew he would be called upon. And soon.

It was all just a matter of time. And no, not by the Dark Lord.

The timing of Cornelius Fudge's decree to submit all of the former Death Eaters in Azkaban to the Dementor's Kiss was incredibly coincidental. His Lord was just fine with taking advantage of coincidental happenings, though. And by that coincidence, Dumbledore had left the castle unguarded.

His Lord had sought to capitalize on his fortune. Potter, of course, had almost ruined all of it.

Severus crumpled a particularly poor essay with one hand and threw it into the fire. He refused to read another word of it; the student would receive nothing for the assignment.

What had Potter been thinking? Running around like a Niffler in search of shiny objects…it was appalling behavior from one in His Lord's service. If Severus had not been there to sort everything out, Potter would have been unsuccessful.

Potter was…Severus frowned harshly. He was very much a Potter. There was certainly no doubt about that. Severus did not dare to open up his emotional Pandora's Box regarding the Potter family; he had locked all of those emotions away long ago: hatred for the father…love for the mother. Potter was arrogant in part, quick tempered, but still one of his more favored students. The boy did his work diligently and turned in fair essays – exceptional essays, actually, when compared to his peers. Potter's brewing was skilled enough for a first year student for Severus' expectations. Severus was hard on the boy, however, and he did not plan to ease up. The boy possessed incredible power and a personality to match. Severus was not so foolish as to dismiss that.

He looked down. His Dark Mark was back – blacker than ever. Severus eyed it emotionlessly.

He had never been the type for sentimentality nor for lying stock in past deeds. It allowed Severus to make the best decisions for himself nearly every time. As for turning down a Dark Lord with Harry Potter at his side? No, he was not suicidal.

However…Severus had made his decision before he had been cognizant of their alliance. Fear prickled at his neck as he remembered the night His Lord had revealed himself:

_Severus' head cracked the stone harshly and two arms pinned him to the unforgiving wall. Black spots swam within his vision._

"_Hello, Severus."_

_It was whispered right next to him and Severus flinched violently. "M-my Lord – "_

"_Am I?" _

_The hands disappeared for a moment before a fist crashed into his mouth. His head smashed into the wall once more and Severus fell to the floor, covering his mouth._

_Red eye's peered crookedly at him through the darkness. "Why the long face, Severus? Here, let me help you up…"_

_A force slammed into him and Severus heard his ribs crack under the pressure. His body was launched across the room and his leg crumpled against the wall. Just as soon as he had gathered his wits, a force came stomping down on his ankle._

"_My Lord! P-please! No more – I-I beg you – "_

"_You beg for mercy? From me? Severus, how long it must be if you have forgotten that lesson…"_

"_I have information for you! I have never left my post at Dumbledore's side, just as you had ordered of me –"_

_A vicious hand grasped him around the collar and hoisted him into the air. "And you believe that that is what I wanted? Severus, you are no fool! You took the easy way out, like so many others! And now, Lord Voldemort is back, through His own merits, and you cower like a mutt before me. How proud you must be…"_

"_I-I have no excuse, My Lord. I have no defense."_

"_Of course you don't," Voldemort spat. "You were always one of my favorites, Severus. Young and talented. I had assumed that I could trust you. Clearly I was wrong…"_

_Severus, as Voldemort had said, was not fool. He had to act. Quickly. He clutched his master's robe with trembling fingers. "My Lord, please allow me the opportunity to earn your trust back. I-I cannot truly express my remorse. Please, My Lord. I am your servant once more."_

_He dared not look. He dared not breathe. _

"_Very well…"_

_Relief washed over him like cool water, soothing the scalding fire of the red eyes above him. _

"_You will have one task. One chance. You fail me, Severus, and I shall kill you. I will have no place in my new world for failures…"_

"_Of course, My Lord. I will not fail."_

_A dark, menacing chortle. "So sure of yourself, Severus. Even at my feet, you display an arrogance that has proven to be the mortal flaw of many witches and wizards. They see themselves as powerful, you see. Only the powerful can judge power, my servant. And you are not nearly as powerful as you'd like to think."_

"_Not powerful, My Lord. I am simply desirous to extend my life and eager to serve."_

"_Yes…" Voldemort drawled, scoffing derisively as Severus looked up. "And it is in that order with you, as it always has been."_

"_My L-"_

"Crucio_."_

_His body rebelled and his soul seared in anguish. Severus thrashed in the throes of the spell's power. No one could cast it more potently than His Lord. No one else could break a man with one spell._

_Severus' head fell limply to the floor as Voldemort finally relented. His dark hair matted together in front of his face, hiding the tears that were produced from the curse. _

_Voldemort sighed softly._

"_You do this to yourself, Severus. How much easier would life be if you straightened out your priorities? No more suffering, no more anger…simply my favor. I admire you so, Severus. I understand you…and you have tools that most of my servants would kill for. So why must you fight me? Why must you fight your destiny at my side? If you had been the servant you once claimed to be, neither of us would be in this situation. Me, in another body. You…in pain, at my feet. It could have been different. It can be better…"_

"_W-what do you require of me, My Lord?" Severus struggled to say, not bothering to look up. A blue vial was lowered into his vision. _

"_Do you know what this is?"_

_Runespoor Venom. "Y-yes, My Lord."_

"_Good. You will incorporate this into your lesson plan for the first year students."_

"_But…I beg your pardon, My Lord…but why?"_

_A hand gently pulled his hair back, until he was seeing red._

"_Because, Severus…with this, we shall catch ourselves Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered triumphantly. And Severus listened to His Lord's plan. _

"Severus. Are you awake?"

Severus glanced up from his grading expressionlessly. "I am. I could not sleep."

Dumbledore sighed slightly, his beard shaking in the green flames of the hearth. "I wish I could say the same, my friend. Unfortunately, I have been awake all this time. Would you be willing to come to my office? I'm afraid my knees have no patience for the floor this morning."

"Very well," Severus marred one more paper with a "D" for Dreadful before standing. "The password is the same, I presume?"

"Naturally."

Setting the stack of parchment aside, Severus rose onto his toes and arched his back. He heaved a heavy breath and scooped up a handful's Floo.

"_Sol Exurit."_

In a rush of green and a sharp lurch, Severus found himself in the Headmaster's office. It was amusing, really. Albus has such silly passwords for the gargoyle placed outside his office, but the passwords to his Floo were much more…profound.

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore beckoned to one of the four plush chairs in front of his desk. "Minerva, Pomona and Filius will all be joining us momentarily, but first…I am sorry, Severus, but I must ask – "

Severus knew what he wanted. Wordlessly, Severus wrenched the sleeve of his robe up past his elbow.

"Ah…" Albus peered down gravely at the mark. "So it is as I feared. Do you have any recollection as to when…-"

"Past midnight," Severus replied simply. "Only a few hours ago. I have not slept since."

"And has he summoned…?"

"No," murmured Severus. "It…concerns me. I would have expected him to summon the Death Eaters immediately. This course of action not only leaves us ignorant, but I'm ashamed to admit that I fear for my own life."

Professor Dumbledore sighed softly, seating himself in his own chair. "Severus, you are safe as long as you remain at Hogwarts. However, I…I am not sure how it has come to this. I have examined every bit of the third floor as well as the passageway underneath and it has all been wiped clean. Voldemort has gotten the best of us."

"Perhaps it was a follower," Severus proposed quietly. "I cannot imagine how the Dark Lord was able to procure the stone without a physical body. It's…it's unthinkable – "

The corner of the Headmaster's lip quirked upwards, causing his beard to twitch. "I am not surprised in the slightest that Tom was able to get to the stone. No…what puzzles me is that he was able to _take_ it. I had hoped that we could at last corner him. I am very confident in my magic, Severus, if you'll allow me a moment of egotism. There was no way around the spells cast on the mirror – Voldemort took the stone without any intentions of using it. And yet…he has a body once more."

"He must have had help."

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore tipped his head. "I must agree with you. Nevertheless, I still find myself at a loss of how Voldemort was able to obtain the Philosopher's Stone."

They sat in silence for a moment. Severus glanced up at the portraits of all the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts; funnily enough, they were all awake and alert.

"Oh goodness, Severus, I'm sorry; would you like anything to drink whilst we wait?"

"Coffee," Severus replied shortly. "Black, please."

"Naturally," Professor Dumbledore hastened to prepare the two wizards' drinks.

The silence was not uncomfortable but it was certainly tense, weighed down with the heavy thoughts of both men.

"Harry will need to be notified."

Severus started. "I beg your pardon?"

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore smiled grimly, setting Severus' drink in front of him. "I regret having to involve the poor boy so early, Severus, but he will be one of Voldemort's biggest targets. Harry needs to know."

Severus frowned. "So soon, though? I have no qualms with telling Potter, but we are yet to have a plan. Surely it would be more helpful to have an idea of how to proceed before we inform the boy?"

Dumbledore was silent. "Plans can change, Severus. Indeed, surely they will. But knowledge…it is power. I have all the confidence in the world in Harry. Can you say truthfully that you've taught a more talented young wizard in your time here at Hogwarts?"

"…No. I cannot," Severus averted his gaze. "Potter has done well. Highest grade of my first years in Slytherin. And of course, that discounts the….lessons the two of you had."

"A fantastic pupil if I do say so myself," Dumbledore's eyes shone. He examined his clasped hands for a moment. "Asking Harry to match Voldemort's magical prowess would be foolish; however, we can give him the tools to defend himself. For now, that is enough."

A sharp rap on the door cut their conversation short.

"Come in!"

Minerva McGonagall led Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout into the Headmaster's office. Severus eyed them all in silence; he could see the redness of McGonagall's eyes as she sat stiffly in her chair. He would not smirk outwardly, but a shiver of accomplishment ran through him. His spells had been successful…just as he had known they would be.

"Good morning, Minerva, Pomona, Filius," The Headmaster nodded to the Heads of House. "I apologize for waking you all so early. I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you all."

"What is it, Albus?" McGonagall said tiredly. Severus merely sipped from his goblet.

"As you all were aware, I left the school yesterday to speak at the Ministry," Dumbledore started. "Minister Fudge had snuck a bill through the Wizengamot that required a swift resolution. And while I was away…

"Minerva," Dumbledore sighed. "Did you notice anything amiss yesterday evening? Anything at all?"

McGonagall blinked, her eyebrows bridging together slightly. "Not at all, Albus. Severus and I were forced to deal with a potions mishap in the dungeons, but that was all that really happened last night. At least that I was aware of."

Dumbledore looked directly at her for a moment, saying nothing. It did not take a Warding Master to figure out what was happening, Severus thought.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Last night…the Philosopher's Stone was stolen."

Pomona's hand shot up to her face. Filius squeaked, and Minerva's shoulder sagged. Severus tilted his head down.

"I…I don't understand, Albus," Pomona cried. "How did it happen? The stone was supposed to be unobtainable!"

Dumbledore's thumbs were massaging the backs of his hands. "Quite frankly, Pomona, I do not know. My initial scans were fruitless. That does lead me to believe one thing, however…

"Severus," Dumbledore's eyes found his own. "Would you please expose your forearm?"

Wordlessly, Severus did as he was told. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the gasping and shocked expressions from his peers.

"H-He's back," Filius whispered timidly. "How did this happen? We did not even see this coming!"

"No," Dumbledore frowned, looking at the mark once more. "No…we did not. Severus has not been summoned, however, which may be more concerning than anything else. Voldemort is not without a plan, it seems. It is troubling."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "And what is _our_ plan, Albus? The students must be notified! Their parents as well! We cannot leave them defenseless."

"My dear, while that would certainly be ideal, what proof do we have other than the mark on Severus' arm?" Dumbledore replied simply. "I am not sure that would be enough for most witches and wizards; remember how horrible the first war was. Voldemort was nearly – he was unstoppable. No one knew who to trust or who was a Death Eater. Do you not remember how many of our own betrayed us?"

"Surely the Minister would want to prevent another war, right?" McGonagall argued. "We could nip this thing in the bud before it even began! All it would take is the Minister believing us – "

Severus scoffed harshly. "This is a man that sentenced every Death Eater in Azkaban to the Dementor's Kiss, I'll have you know."

Every eye in the room turned to him, most in shock, but Dumbledore's in surprise.

"I have sources," Severus defended, sneering at them all. "Did you think I would not know about this, Albus? My source informed me yesterday evening."

"Not at all, my friend," Dumbledore said quietly. "I am merely amazed at how soon the news found you."

"Was that why you were at the Ministry, Albus?" Filius questioned.

"Indeed," Dumbledore frowned. "That was a bill that I naturally had to oppose. I spoke with Cornelius on the matter yesterday. Not only is such a decision in bad taste, but it is also a foolish action on the Minister's end. I tried to persuade Cornelius of this."

"And how did that go?"

"…Not well, I'm afraid," Dumbledore frowned. "Those Dementors are such vile creatures. Even if the witches and wizards involved made poor choices, the Kiss is never the solution."

McGonagall frowned. "At least the Death Eaters in Azkaban will be unavailable to You-Know-Who. It should slow him down at least a little bit."

Severus said nothing. Indeed, it seemed that no one knew what to say at the moment. He could appreciate that. Two major revelations before breakfast were two too many. However, they all sat about feeling sorry for themselves. They were all massaging their bruised egos. No one could steal the stone, they had said! It was simply not possible.

The Dark Lord always found a way. So Severus sat silently, enjoying the bitter silence.

A large, tawny owl flew through an open window, startling everyone for a moment. Severus repressed the urge to smirk when the bird clipped Filius' ear, causing the part-goblin to utter some less polite words.

Dumbledore untied the morning newspaper from the owl's leg, levitating a treat for the winged creature out of his desk. Dumbledore's phoenix made a noise of discontent from its golden perch. Dumbledore chuckled softly before levitating another for his own pet.

The chuckle died immediately upon gazing at the front page of _The Daily Prophet_**.**

"Albus?" Pomona asked. "Albus? What is it?"

The Headmaster shook his head slowly. Instead, he adjusted his half-moon spectacles upon his nose and read aloud:

**PRISONERS BREAK FREE**

**Mass Breakout of Death Eaters at Azkaban**

**By Patrick Fairview**

_A mass breakout of prisoners occurred early Sunday morning at Azkaban in the North Sea. The fugitives all had one thing in common – their connection to the former terrorist group known as the Death Eaters._

"_Awful news," Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge said in a statement to the press Sunday morning. "The Ministry is still in the process of investigating the breakout. Unfortunately, we have nothing to present to the public at this time. However, we urge each witch and wizard to keep on the lookout for suspicious persons and behavior. We will be increasing our direct Floo connections to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over the next few days as well as increasing our on-duty Auror staff."_

_The breakout was first reported at 2:41 am Sunday morning by the jailer staff on guard. By the time the Aurors had arrived, the breakout was finished and the suspects were nowhere to be seen. The Auror office could not be reached for comment, but reports of explosions and broken walls have reached The Daily Prophet. _

_According to Minister Fudge, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is currently in the process of interrogating the Dementors who were present during the breakout._

_The list of Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban include the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, and Sirius Black. Each were convicted of multiple murders and sentenced to life sentences in Azkaban._

_Stay tuned to an emergency Evening Prophet for more news on the breakout._

Silence. Deafening silence.

"And so it begins…" Severus muttered darkly, sipping his coffee. And so it would.


	2. Alley Adventures

**Hello, folks! Chapter 2 of EbtD is here! Welcome to the story, Harry.**

**You can follow me on Twitter at BrigadeEitD to get teasers and such for the story. Um...leave reviews? Please? Thanks.**

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**Chapter 2: Alley Adventures**

"Look! You see that broad over there?"

"The one with the hat?"

"No! The fat one that's about to lose all of her groceries!"

Harry tossed a look over his shoulder. A squat witch wobbled on unsure legs down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley, heaps of groceries stacked high in front of her.

"You mean she hasn't _eaten_ them all, yet?"

Theo puffed up his face and jerked spastically. Draco, Blaise, and Harry all lost it; Harry punched the boy in the shoulder, unable to contain his laughter.

"Ow, Harry!"

"Sorry," Harry said with a wide smile, not sorry at all. He looked back at the struggling witch passively. Theo was right; she really was a mess.

The four Slytherin second years – third years now, actually, or they would be when school resumed next autumn – were seated outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour on the patio at the corner block of Diagon Alley. The shade was nice. The free ice cream? Even better.

"How are you doing, boys?" Fortescue called out, serving a pair of witches their desserts a few tables away.

"Just fine, sir, thanks!" Harry happily spoke up for his friends. That was the best thing about it all: the ice cream was on Minister Fudge's tab. Harry had spent the last couple of weekends of both this summer and the previous one "interning" inside the Ministry. At the end of Harry's first year, Minister Fudge had offered to show him around the Ministry. It was a most _generous_ offer, of course, and an offer that Harry had graciously accepted. He had met many important people since that time: Unspeakables, members of the Wizengamot, a few Aurors - even some Healers from St. Mungos. Reporters and "regular" citizens often tried to approach Harry there, but the Minister was always around to wrap an arm around his shoulders and steer him away. Fudge just wanted to put him on display him like a prized puppy, Harry assumed.

And that was fine, honestly. If anything had happened in the past year, Harry had grown up. God, he had been such an _idiot_ at times in his first year, now that he looked back on it. There was a lot for Fudge to gain by having him around. Harry knew that now, and he made sure that he was…compensated for it. Ice cream? Definitely. School books and supplies? On the Ministry's tab. Was Harry going to ask for the brand new, state of the art Firebolt racing broom? You're damn right, Harry was! Fudge would do anything to keep him happy; hell, after the Azkaban fiasco last year, Fudge needed all the positive publicity he could get.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were extremely proud of him.

Harry licked the last bit of his chocolate ice cream with a content sigh. Voldemort did not let him down; the Malfoys had taken him in after his first year (Draco had been so excited) and staying with them was _marvelous_. Living in luxury suited him, Harry thought. He could study magic in a beautiful private office. He could fly his broom whenever he wanted to. His friends could also visit any time they wanted. It was...perfect.

There was one thing that bugged him, though. Even now. It had been just over a year – an entire _year_ – since Harry had even seen one hair of Voldemort. That night when he stole the Philosopher's Stone was the only night he had ever seen Voldemort in person. Sure, they corresponded by way of owls and such, but that did not make up for the Dark Lord's absence. Neither Lucius nor Professor Snape had been called to his side, either. It was _baffling_.

It was also a bit depressing, if Harry was honest with himself. Was Voldemort not supposed to revolutionize the Wizarding World? What was he doing? The last anyone had seen of him – and make no mistake, only a select few knew that Voldemort had been the one behind it – was the mass breakout from Azkaban. Voldemort refused flatly in his letters to even discuss his plans, either. He had actually scolded Harry for even asking.

When that agitation and impatience clawed at him, though, Harry always tried to look at it from another perspective: Voldemort had come through on his other promises. The Dark Lord had provided him a home away from that...that _fucking_ orphanage. Voldemort had even sent Harry a means to communicate with him. At the start of the previous summer, Harry had received a ring from Voldemort in the mail. It was a silver band with black engravings, swirly gracefully around the outer rim. It was very stylish, in Harry's opinion, and he had worn it on his left ring finger ever since. The ring, if Harry ever ran his finger down the length of ebony on it, would call for Voldemort, giving the Dark Lord Harry's location. It was similar to the Dark Mark, in that regard.

'_Don't you ever use this ring unless you actually require my assistance - and for a legitimate purpose. I will be most displeased,'_ Voldemort had written him. Harry was not so foolish as to test that.

Even from his unknown location, though, Voldemort sent him books, lists of spells on parchment, and even discussed magical theory with him. Harry was still learning, still growing as a wizard. His rituals from first year had proven to be essential to that growth, as well. He was a fair bit taller than his friends with the exception of Cedric. No one on the Quidditch pitch could handle his strength or athleticism, either. Harry smirked just thinking about it – two Quidditch Cups in a row.

Voldemort was not Harry's only source of mentoring in all things magic, however. The Headmaster had pulled Harry aside at the start of the previous year to express his own desire to continue their lessons. Harry, never one to dismiss knowledge despite his own aversions to the Headmaster, eagerly agreed. Dumbledore also took the time to inform him about the foreboding, imminent return of the Dark Lord. Sure, Harry had played the part. He had rung his hands and begged and pleaded…and then he had gone to write a letter to Voldemort. The Dark Lord had wryly replied that, yes, he was aware of Dumbledore's suspicions. Harry assumed that Snape got to it first.

Harry leaned back on the hind legs of his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. He would have to deal with Voldemort eventually, he assumed - the Dark Lord could not stay in hiding forever, could he? Until then, however, he would just enjoy being a kid. None of his ambitions had changed; he wanted to change the world (or at least the Wizarding one) eventually, and if you asked him, he was off to a fantastic start.

The low, guttural sound of a dog barking on the patio separated Harry from his thoughts and silenced whatever conversation Draco and Theo had been having. A small child giggled and tossed the dog a slice of deli meat. Harry's eyebrows rose. That was a _big_ dog.

The burly dog gobbled the food in the way only dogs can; Harry eyed the beast's black, matted fur. For such a large dog, it was pretty thin as well. It continued sniffing around.

"Ugh, look at that brute," Draco muttered disdainfully. "It figures that whoever owns the cretin forgot to leash it."

"It's enormous," Blaise remarked. "It would come up to my waist!"

The dog was munching away on another scrap from another table when its head rose up and its eyes found Harry. The dog stilled dramatically.

Harry cocked his head at the dog, but held his hand out to it when the canine trotted over. The dog sniffed heavily a few times before timidly licking Harry's hand. He smiled.

"It's a stray, Draco," said Harry, laughing at the disgust on the boy's face. "It's friendly, at least."

The dog barked. Harry scratched it behind one of the monstrously large ears. "I was pretty much a stray, too, at one point," Harry informed the dog soberly. "Not anymore, though - you just have to find the right people."

The dog started panting and leaned its head closer for Harry to pet. He did so, enjoying the dismay Draco was expressing. Harry knew he was smiling; he had always wanted a pet…not that he would ever admit as much to anyone.

"How's a sandwich sound, boy?" Harry grinned. He was just talking to it to mess with Draco at this point. "Oi! Mr. Fortescue! You mind getting this dog a sandwich for me?"

"But of course, Mr. Potter!" The man called back from the door of his parlor.

"Brilliant! Put it on the Minister's tab, eh?" The man tipped his head and Harry returned to scratching the dog.

"Hello, boys!"

Harry paused in his petting of the dog and turned around; Daphne Greengrass was there, standing primly with a teasing smile, a bag of goods underneath her arm.

"'Ello, love," Theo drawled lowly, playfully batting his eyes at her. She giggled in response. "Nice dog, Harry."

"Thanks," He grinned as the dog nudged his hand, silently demanding to be scratched again. "He annoys Draco, so he's a keeper."

"My father will _never_ allow that thing in our manor," Draco swore fervently. "And it does not _annoy_ me. It's filthy. That's all."

"It does need a bath," Daphne added.

"It's a dog," Harry retorted with a shrug, looking down into the dog's grey eyes. "It was never going to smell like roses, you know."

Daphne hummed thoughtfully. "True. Still…at least brush the poor thing or something, okay?"

"Sure," Harry uttered dryly. The dog had lain down by his feet, looking perfectly content.

"So what brings you four to Diagon Alley?" She asked, setting her bags down for the moment.

Draco beat the others to it. "Harry was working at the Ministry again, today. We all decided to make a day of it."

"We've been here pretty much all afternoon," supplied Blaise, finishing off his own ice cream.

Theo grinned slyly. "And we've yet to visit Knockturn."

Daphne looked puzzled. "Alright?"

Harry grinned. "It's like visiting a haunted house for these blokes. It is all spooky and scary."

"It is for you, too," Draco claimed. Harry shook his head, laughing.

"No way," Harry said. "I'd knock whatever's down there on its arse."

It was probably true, but Harry had not actually been down Knockturn Alley enough to really make that claim.

"Want to come?" Theo asked their fellow third year. Daphne shook her head, suddenly appearing timid.

"No, I don't think so," She said uncertainly. "My parents would flay me for even considering it."

Harry scooted his chair closer to her. "Don't worry," He assured her with a wink. "I'll protect you."

Daphne ducked her head, embarrassed. "Thanks, Harry, but maybe some other time. I think I see my father down the street; see you all later!"

And she shuffled away. Harry watched her go in amusement.

"You making moves on my girl, Potter?" Theo whispered dramatically, waving his spoon to and fro. "A duel, I say!"

Laughing, Harry drew his spoon like a sword, clinking it against Theo's own. "She's smart. Nothing good's going to happen down there."

"True," Draco shrugged carelessly. "But it will still be fun. You lot want to go?"

Harry tore a bit of the sandwich that Fortescue had brought over off and tossed it to the dog at his feet. "Sure," He replied easily. The boys stood, waving their thanks to Fortescue, and took off down the street.

"Hello, Harry!"

"Cheers, Potter!"

Harry slapped a high five to the wizard wanting one, nodding to another. That was the thing about being in the Ministry all the time; people recognized him. It was something that he has just accepted and had gone with it. There were worse things. Besides, having all of these people on his side would probably come in handy one day.

Harry handed the rest of the sandwich to Blaise. The dog was eagerly following the boys down the street. It looked like the canine wanted the rest of his sandwich. Blaise held it out to the dog, which reared up to grab it. Blaise recoiled.

"This mutt's jaws are a bit…obscene."

"The dog itself is obscene," Draco retorted quickly.

Harry frowned playfully. "Stop making fun of my pet, Draco. He's awesome."

The dog barked, sidling up to Harry. He reached down to pat it.

That was another thing that had happened in the past year; Draco had matured a lot. Harry would be the first to admit that his best friend was a bit childish going into Hogwarts, but since then Draco had really found his stride. That advice that Voldemort had once offered him – to study the runes of spells before trying them – had gone a long way. Draco had an expansive knowledge of runes, now. He knew what spells should look like before they were even covered in class. It had helped Draco dramatically, and now he was pushing Harry in all of his classes. It worked out well.

Knockturn Alley catered to a very shady clientele…but in reality, the word "shady" was interchangeable with the phrase "not approved by the Ministry." Potions ingredients could be found as well as questionable magical artifacts. There was even a motel in the depths of the Alley. Homeless witches and wizards as well as the half-bred magical population were welcome there. Imagine that…genuine compassion for those in need. Of course, the Ministry did not want the majority of the magical population to know that.

"So we're going to Borgin and Burke's, right?" Theo asked. Harry nodded.

"I want some new books," He said.

Draco turned his head to him, frowning. "More? Merlin's beard, Harry, we've got a huge library back at home. That's not enough for you?"

Harry smirked.

"Nope," He said simply.

The four boys and the dog trekked down the narrow steps leading into the shaded alley. Walking around Knockturn was all about attitude, Harry believed. It was simple – if you acted like you belonged, like you knew what you were doing and where you were going, no one would bother you. And so he walked with his head high and his shoulders even, knowing all the people around him knew who he was but not caring at all. He would make an example of any fool that stopped him.

Ah, that was another thing Fudge had granted him…freedom from the Decree of Underage Wizardry. He was important like that.

The boys came up to the dilapidated shop called Borgin and Burke's and walked in without lingering about. It still amazed Harry how much room there was inside the shop – magic was the cause, obviously, but it made Harry feel warm realizing the impact magic could have on him.

"Welcome to Borgin and B – oh. _Children_."

The shopkeeper, Borgin, looked at them as if something foul had been dropped upon his doorstep. "This is not a place for schoolboys, I'm, afraid. Besides, I doubt you lot have the coin to pay for valuable goods such as mine. Be gone."

_Oh no he didn't_. Harry looked incredulously at Draco, motioning forward with his hands. Draco smirked, oozing superiority. Yep; Draco would take care of it.

"You see, Mr. Borgin," Draco started disdainfully. Harry grinned and looked away; these types of discussions were the ones Draco was made for. "I - unlike you - _do_ have the funds to pay for these…goods, you call them? My word. These...trinkets would not even be fit to adorn my manor. I am a Malfoy, after all. Now, do we have a problem, sir? Must I _really_ involve my father in this…situation?"

Borgin's eyes bulged and he bowed jerkily. "T-that will not be necessary, young Mr. Malfoy. I beg your pardon – so many enter my shop merely to wander about. How-how careless of me; it is an honor to have you here, of course. May I be of any assistance to you or your…friends?"

Draco sniffed. "No. That is not necessary. We shall look around. I will call for you if we need anything."

"Naturally, naturally. I am at your service," Borgin hastily stepped back behind his curtain before he could cause any further damage.

Harry snorted. "Nice one, Draco. What an idiot."

The boy smirked. "It takes a firm hand to deal with the likes of him, Potter. Inferiors must be reminded of their place; remember that."

"Oh, I will," said Harry dryly. "You lot see anything useful?"

Theo had wandered off to the side of the shop. "Wicked! A ring that can morph into a sword! I _want_ that…"

The four of them looked at everything: jewelry, weapons, books, and even furniture. Harry had picked out a few books from the rickety bookshelf in the back of the shop. One was simply a spellbook that, when Harry skimmed through it, contained some spells that he did not know. As long as there was some knowledge to be gained, it was worth the purchase.

Another covered human mutations. That was a big no-no in the eyes of the Ministry. There were many "diseases" out there – Lycanthropy, for one – that could mutate a witch or wizard. However, several wizards in the past had had a fascination with those mutations. Could be used for the good of wizardkind? Harry himself had been intrigued. Another fun book to read.

The third? Rituals, of course. Ho hum.

Draco had a small pile of trinkets resting on the counter as well. Blaise was holding a small, thinly-worn book, and Theo was clinging to that damn ring with an unyielding grin on his face.

Borgin came back when Draco called for him and the boys made their purchases. Harry took a large amount of amusement from the man's jerky movements. The boys were on their way out when an artifact caught Harry's eye.

It was a small thing, resting at the back of a shelf in the darkest corner of the room. A glittering jewel rested on a piece of black silk. The green hue of the gem was mesmerizing. Had he seen this thing before?

Oh. There was a note as well:

_**Jade of Future Knowledge**_

_The Jade of Future Knowledge is a precious jewel derived from the Inner Eye of a Seer that enables its user to view a future even in their life. The knowledge gained will be of interest to the user as the jewel will evaluate the desires of its wielder. A word of caution, however; much like the true visions of a Seer, the memory obtained from the Jade will not show how the memory came to pass. Likewise, the vision may lack details that paint a thorough picture of the future_

_For price and directions of use, ask for Mr. Borgin_

"Ah…I see you, like so many others, have found one of my prized possessions."

Harry turned sharply, staring at the shopkeeper. Borgin averted his eyes quickly.

"It has been returned many times," Borgin whispered reverently, reaching out to smooth the creases in the silk. "It can only be used once for an individual, after all. Still…it is priceless. To know one's own future…alas, many cannot handle their own destiny. They look into their futures for love or in the hopes of finding success. The witches and wizards are often disappointed. They sell the gem back to me for a fraction of what it is worth, desperate to be rid of it."

Harry was not sure why the man was telling him this. Perhaps to boast? If so, Harry certainly was not impressed.

"Using it is not difficult: you simply hold the gem with both hands and allow it to rest on your forehead," Borgin's eyes finally rose to meet Harry's, gleaming greedily in the lack of light. "What I said before in error is correct in this instance; you _really_ cannot afford it. A very good day to you all."

The boys walked down the steps and back into the alley. The hulking dog barked happily, butting its head against Harry's hip. He smiled absently, his mind still on the gem in the shop.

"Draco…" Harry said at last. They were walking down the very narrow alleyway back to Diagon. "Borgin deserves a bit of retribution, don't you agree?"

The three others halted in their conversation.

"I suppose," Draco drawled at last, his eyes beginning to shine in anticipation. "What did you have in mind?"

Harry grinned, looking at them all. "I want that gem," He said. "I want to see my future. And if Borgin won't sell it to me, perhaps I just…take it."

Theo whistled. "You want to steal that thing? I dunno, Harry; I reckon Borgin's got a bazillion spells and wards covering every inch of his shop. I don't see how you could take it without him knowing."

Harry glanced to Blaise, who looked doubtful as well. Draco, however…Draco knew exactly what he was planning to do.

Draco smiled a malicious smile. "Go for it. We'll meet back up with you near Malkins'."

Harry nodded, shooing the boys away.

"What is he going to do?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Draco!"

"Blaise!"

"Come _on_!"

Harry chuckled quietly. The dog was looking up at him silently, as if waiting for him to make a move. Harry patted it on the head.

"Let's find somewhere a little more secluded for this, mate."

Harry took a left down a narrow path off of the main section of Knockturn Alley. Another left brought him directly behind Borgin and Burke's. It was odd; the back alley was very nearly pitch black. Magic, Harry supposed.

Speaking of magic…Harry had developed a new trick in the past year or so through his own independent readings. It was a magical technique that no one had ever named. It was simply written about. A warm rush of accomplishment fluttered through his chest. He had accomplished this technique without Voldemort's help, too.

Magic was, in essence…_magic_ \- neither a solid nor a liquid. And yet, magic could help things grow. It could harm or heal. It could make dishes wash themselves or it could make people fly. Magic was…or it could be…physical.

And that is where this technique came into play. A wizard from a ridiculously long time ago had studied the physical nature of magic. He had concluded that while magic was not normally a physical thing, it could interact with physical objects when the witch or wizard intended it to.

Harry had found that fairly obvious. But magical theory was like that sometimes. And that theory opened the door to something special.

"You keep a lookout for me, alright?" Harry grinned to the dog. He…well, he would not exactly be able to defend himself whilst doing this.

He sat on the ground, trying to ignore the filth of the alley. He needed to concentrate. Intention was the key, and he intended to steal that damn gem. Borgin could go fuck himself for all Harry cared; he wanted to see his future.

The desire fueled him and his magic began to form. It moved to and fro within him…and suddenly, it was with_out_ him and everything was dark.

Harry could see shadows. The wall in front of him was dark and wooden – though that was something he could not tell for sure, at the moment. He moved forward, through the wall, feeling and hearing nothing.

It was a weird feeling. He was weightless, floating along. He heard nothing except the swirling rush of _something_. The shadows were brighter inside the building. He could see one book from another and make out the different trinkets lining the walls. Passing a mirror, Harry could make out the moving darkness that was him.

And at last. There it was. The gem sat innocently on its silken sheet. Harry moved forward and no longer could he pass through things; instead, he was holding the gem within him.

'_You're coming with me.'_

Harry made it back to his physical body pretty easily – he was not total pants at directions, thanks. He felt a jolt – the first feeling he had experienced in several minutes – and blinked rapidly. Harry grinned. The gem was resting gently in his hands.

"Dinner! So hungry!"

Harry looked up as he heard a snarl; his dog was leaping after a gnarled witch with her wand brandished. A flash of steel flared in front of him and the dog whined out in pain.

"No!"

Harry's hand shot out, launching the witch away from the dog. Harry leapt over its body, anger in his eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry roared, shoving his wand into the face of the downed witch. "I should kill you!"

The witch cackled, cradling her injured hand next to her breast. "Hunger consumes! The hunger is real! Bad dog! Bad dog will feed me!"

Harry spat. You know what cured crazy? Fire. Fire cured crazy.

"Get out of here, you bitch," He growled. Seconds later, an enchanted fire rose up. He heard the woman scream, fleeing the light. Harry turned around with a sigh to assess the damage to his new friend. The poor dog may not even make it.

Or it may not even be a dog at all.

"Holy shit," Harry breathed, rushing to kneel by the side of the emaciated man before him.

Ragged robes barely covered the man and black, matted hair, much like the dog's fur, covered his face. Tattooed, much too thin arms covered the man's midsection as blood flowed over them like water.

"P-poison," The man gritted out in a raspy voice, whipping his hair back weakly. Harry's eyes widened. He knew this man.

"Sirius Black?" Harry exclaimed, reaching out to move the man's hand away from the wound. Grey eyes found his, squinted together in pain.

"That's me. That's me…Help me, Harry. Please."

This was his _godfather_. Gritting his teeth Harry nodded and tried one of the few healing spells he knew. It was hopeless. He had no idea how to handle poisons. He needed help.

Maybe Voldemort would forgive him. Hopefully.

"I'll get you help. I promise," Harry vowed, looking the fugitive dead in the eyes. He reached for his ring – ready or not, it was time to see Voldemort once more.


	3. Saving Sirius

**Hello! Did I scare any of you? This one took me a while.**

**Life bit me on the ass these past few weeks. School, work, this story, a young niece, planning for my future...well, the story got put on the back burner for a little bit.**

**Hopefully, this doesn't happen again. At least it's near the beginning of the story, right? Might I recommend another read-through?**

**If you ever have any concerns ("Don't abandon this! PLEASE!") (I won't), just message me. Fanfiction, Twitter, whatever. I'm usually pretty good at getting back to people.**

**I think that's it. I do believe this chapter will make up for everything. **

**P.S. ...Got any artists out there? You might find some...inspiration in this chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Saving Sirius**

Sirius Black sat hunched over – nearly laying down, really – cradling his wounded stomach as blood flowed freely into his lap. Harry knelt swiftly, gritting his teeth. The wound looked bad. Really bad. Some purplish substance was coating the wound and the blood oozing free had a black hue. The poison, it seemed, was working quickly. Harry was at a loss of what to do next.

Damn poisons. Damn healing magic, too; he was still pants at the stuff in comparison to all of his other talents.

"I've called for help," Harry eventually settled on saying to the withered man. That was something Harry had noticed, too, and it pained him. Sirius Black was unnaturally thin. His skin was gaunt and loose, ill-fitting to his emaciated body. There was no color to the man and his hands seemed to chronically shake. If this was what Azkaban could do to a person…well, Harry was never going to go to Azkaban for any reason, that was for sure.

"Who?" Black huffed. Harry tilted his head, acting as if he were simply examining the wound further. Harry could tell him, he supposed, but it would be like telling a child that there was a monster under their bed…and then conjuring said monster to live under said bed.

Probably not the best idea.

"A friend," Harry said instead. A hacking cough racked the man's damaged body.

"Ow," Black muttered weakly.

Harry reached out, massaging the man's shoulder awkwardly. "Don't worry, he'll be here soon. Er…I know I told you to protect me and all…but why did you do it?"

A small chuckle answered him, so silent that Harry barely heard it. He could not see the man's face through all of the black hair, but he could hear the humor in the man's voice. "I heard your friends. I know who you are – hell, even if I had not heard them talking, I'd know just by looking at you."

"And who am I?"

Black jerked his head in a practiced motion and the shaggy, matted hair flipped over to show the man's face.

"You're my godson. That's all the reason I needed."

Harry paused for a moment, looking into the man's grey eyes…until the giggles got to him.

"That's the sappiest thing I've ever heard," Harry laughed, smiling like an idiot.

Sirius grinned sheepishly, lightly massaging his stomach. "It is, isn't it? Ah well…so how's your life been, Harry?"

"Well – "

"_Move_."

A firm hand grasped his shoulder and all of the good-naturedness vanished. Harry stepped aside automatically, looking up.

Yep. It was Voldemort, alright.

Red eyes peered down at him for a moment. Harry matched the man's gaze, but it was hard not to notice how he had changed since his resurrection. Black hair, for starters, sat upon his head. It was swept to the side casually, as if a crown should encompass it. Harry nearly rolled his eyes at the thought.

Voldemort also had a bit of facial hair going – barely more than a shadow gracing his jaw, though. It was something that surprised Harry a bit; Voldemort never seemed the type to not shave. Maybe it had to do with his plans, then. Damn. Now his curiosity was bubbling forth, again. The one thing that had not changed, however, was the presence that the man carried himself with. He looked ridiculously strong, and everything from the man's face to his posture screamed out that very fact.

Voldemort's lip tugged upwards and he clapped Harry on the shoulder before looking down. That was as much of a blessing as he would receive, Harry supposed.

"And what do we have, here, Mr. Black?" Voldemort muttered quietly. "My, my…it seems someone has lost their quickness rotting away in Azkaban."

Sirius' eyes deadened and Harry grimaced just seeing that. Yeah…Voldemort was still a bit callous, as well.

"It does that," Sirius managed after a moment. "Who are you?"

Voldemort hummed non-committally, inspecting the wound. Sirius tried to struggle when he was denied an answer to his question, but Voldemort's hand lashed out to grab the man's chest. Sirius' movements ceased.

"Let's not struggle, shall we?" A dark grin broke took over the Dark Lord's face. "It never does anyone any good struggling against me."

His wand was in his hand before Harry could even process it. Quickly it was pressed into Sirius' midsection and the weakened man cried out in pain. Harry had to react. What could he do, though, to stop Voldemort from hurting him? What had he been thinking calling Voldemort for help?

"_Resolvunt_."

Sirius sighed shakily and Harry watched, arm outstretched, as the wound on Sirius' stomach slowly stitched itself back together.

Voldemort twirled his wand. "Really, Harry, you were not able to handle a little scrape like this? I am disap – ohhhh, that wouldn't be a good idea."

The Dark Lord had just looked up at Harry and his expression darkened severely. Harry's emotions must have shown on his face. Voldemort stood swiftly, towering over Harry. Why the fuck was he so tall?

"Harry," Voldemort whispered, leaning down. "After all this time – after every gift that I have handed to you, you still do not trust me?"

Harry's mouth was dry. "Sirius doesn't deserve the pain you were putting him through."

"He deserves all the pain in the world for ever deciding that it was a smart decision to oppose me," Voldemort snarled. "And still, I healed him. Am I not merciful, Harry? I even let your trespasses against me slide away. I look at you and see a young man, cleansed and full of potential. And still…you mistrust me?"

"You killed my parents, in case you'd forgotten," Harry growled. Screw it; if Voldemort wanted to fight, Harry would gladly get into it.

Voldemort rolled his eyes dramatically slowly. "This again, Harry? You are a hypocrite. You must meet me halfway. I've let everything between us from the past go, and yet you still cling to this childish matter?"

"Wait…y-you killed Lily and James?"

Voldemort looked down passively as Sirius struggled to get up. "You might want to remain seated, Mr. Black; you are not exactly in the best of conditions, after all."

Sirius ignored him, getting up to a knee briefly before falling back down with a grunt. His eyes closed and his hair hung meekly in front of his face.

Finally, his eyes opened. They were looking at Harry, and the emotions in them force Harry to duck his head. He did not even know the man! He only knew Sirius' name! Regardless…that look shook him. Sirius knew who the man who had healed him was, now. And Harry had called the man a friend just moments before.

Sirius' reaction was like ice sliding down Harry's spine. It was slimy and filled with guilt. _That_ was how he should feel about being in the presence of his parent's murderer. Instead, he had helped the bloke regain his body. _Fuck_.

But he had no other choice, though, right? Voldemort had blackmailed him – Ron Weasley's death would have been pinned on him if he had refused. And he had learned a lot during their…partnership, as well. It was not like what had happened was the worst situation. He would have to explain himself to Sirius later. And what was that feeling, that desire to explain himself to his godfather? What even was a godfather? What did that even mean for him? Harry wanted to rub his face in exasperation. And why was he questioning every damn decision he had made?

He merely sneered at Voldemort, instead. Voldemort grinned viciously.

"And so, let me put it this way for you, Mr. Black," Voldemort drawled softly. "Yes, I killed them. Easily. Effortlessly. They're gone, however…and all of that is in the past. Let's look to the present for a moment, shall we? At this very moment, you stand – or rather, you slump - in one of the darkest, most dangerous alleys in the entire Wizarding World. You were convicted of a crime that you did not commit and the Ministry is desperate to find a Death Eater to 'Kiss.' If your continued survival means anything to you, you will let the past go. You _need_ me. Just as the entire Wizarding World needs me."

Sirius' face scrunched together in revulsion. "And where's my brother, Voldemort? How did that work out for him?"

Voldemort's eyebrows rose slightly. "Dead. He betrayed my trust. The point is moot, regardless. Do you believe that I just put a brand on my Death Eaters and send them out? No, no, no, Mr. Black; that is not how it works. No one in the Wizarding World knows how I truly work. Not yet, at least. Instead, I am offering you protection. You see, I don't need you, Mr. Black. Especially…"

Voldemort trailed off with a chuckle, wrapping a leisurely arm around Harry's shoulders before the boy could even notice. Harry resisted the urge to shiver when Voldemort's fingers traced the back of his neck. "Especially when Harry here is already on my side."

"What?!"

The expression on the gaunt man's face panicked him. "Look…I can explain it to you later," Harry said lowly, trying to placate his godfather. Sirius' eyes were wide and strained. Harry rushed on. "I just wanted to make you safe. I wanted to get you some food and a place to stay. You need to get off the streets, Sirius. We can figure the rest of it out later."

Harry whirled on Voldemort, viciously stepping out from under the Dark Lord's arm. "What about you, eh? It's been an entire damn year and this is how you show up? Insulting my godfather, insulting me? I asked for help, goddammit! I bent my neck for-fucking-once! Isn't that what you wanted? I did what you wanted and you show up like this, making everything worse? Fuck you!"

Voldemort's red eyes deepened as the playful look left them. There was a slight dimple in his grizzled cheek that set off warning sirens in Harry's mind. Shame, then, that Harry did not care.

The panic had morphed into something else entirely. It felt like anger, but Harry could control anger. This? This feeling bubbled. It boiled. It wanted to escape and hurt and Harry could not stop his hands from shaking.

"Harry – " Voldemort started, looking over the boy's head. The anger had left his face suddenly.

"No," Harry seethed. "You don't get to interrupt. Look, Voldemort! I called for help – like you told me I could, mind you! – and you made everything worse! You hurt my godfather, threaten him, berate him…fuck you!"

"Harry! Shut up for – "

"No!" Harry roared. "I'm not the hypocrite, you asshole! Without me, you would still be less than a ghost! You gave me everything? You're wrong. It's the other way around! And then you ran off! 'Gee, thanks Harry! See you never!' Fuck you!"

Harry ducked his head for a moment. He was partially afraid of seeing Voldemort's expression, but the bubbling emotions hissed like a kettle. They simmered into something cold. Something dangerous.

With a chilling chuckle, Harry looked into Voldemort's eyes once more.

"You are taking something for granted, Voldemort, and you are overestimating your own power. You think a few tips in school are going to endear me to you? You think that you can just blow me off, that I'll follow you like a loyal little puppy? Is that what you think? No. I'm not as loyal as you'd like to think, Voldemort. I'd never be loyal to a prick like you."

A tick in Voldemort's jaw was the only warning he received. Suddenly, nails were scraping his scalp and twisting his head around by the hair. Voldemort's other hand clamped down on his jaw and neck, brutally wrenching his head down to look at Sirius.

Harry's rage disappeared in a flash. Sirius' eyes were glazed over and the thin man was slumped down the wall. Blood was oozing slowly from his eyes and Sirius' breath was coming in short, painful pants.

"Now is not the time," Voldemort murmured quietly before tossing Harry's head aside without a thought. Voldemort was on his knees in front of Sirius once more, muttering spells under his breath by the time Harry had righted himself.

Harry rubbed his jaw. "What's the matter? I thought you had helped him!"

Voldemort ignored him, reaching up slowly to touch his fingers to the blood dripping down the man's face. Harry's hands shook as Voldemort took his time. Did he not hear how Sirius was struggling to breathe?

Voldemort rubbed his fingers together right in front of his own eyes for a moment before sniffing them delicately. Harry could not make heads or tails out of the Dark Lord. How was _sniffing_ blood going to fix Sirius? Voldemort stood in a flash and it made Harry flinch, but Voldemort grabbed Harry's arm and a fistful of Sirius' hair.

"What the –"

Pressure clawed at Harry's everything. It was as if the brick walls in the narrow alley that had surrounded were closing in, intent to squeeze him to death. Harry could not see. He could not breathe. His body wanted to rebel and fight it off, but he endured –

Icy wind swirled into his lungs and Harry gasped, wrenching his arm free. Harry ran a hand through his hair and supported himself with the other on his hip, muttering obscenities under his breath before glaring at the Dark Lord.

"Surprise Side-long Apparition is not – "

"My Lord!"

"…Healer Benjamin," Voldemort drawled with a disgusted note in his voice. Harry looked at the man who had suddenly appeared, meekly resting on his knees. The man's light brown hair was parted to the side, but a gruesome looking scar ran down his scalp. Benjamin raised his head shakily and Harry grimaced.

The scar went down through the man's empty left eye socket. The nervous hunch in the man's shoulders told Harry everything he needed to know. He looked up at the Dark Lord. Voldemort had broken this man, somehow. It sent that thrill of danger of being in Voldemort's presence through Harry's system that had been missing for quite a while.

"Mr. Black here has been poisoned," Voldemort murmured, barely more than a whisper. "Devorathorn, I believe. Resistant to magic. You will heal him, Benjamin. _Or else_."

"O-of course, My Lord! I-I would n-never disobey or disappoint," said Healer Benjamin with wide eyes.

Voldemort sneered. "You have in the past, you filth. What are you waiting for? Go!"

The healer scrambled to his feet as if the grass below them was set ablaze. He levitated Sirius hastily, muttered something under his breath, and the two vanished.

"What on earth...woah."

It had taken him a moment, but his mind finally caught up. The wind was cold and the two of them were outside. But where in the hell were they?

There were no trees or plants as far as his eyes could see, but there many rolling hills – hills the size of which Harry had never seen. Clouds floated above the mountainous hills, caressing them as if they were a levitating blanket and the hills rolled together into a valley that almost seemed unnatural.

Water was to Harry's right. Was it a lake or an ocean? A sea, perhaps? Regardless, the environment around them was straight out of a fairytale.

"Where are we?"

Voldemort stepped forward, beckoning with his hand as he looked down into the valley. "We are on the Isle of Skye. Scotland. Far, far away from everyone and everything."

Harry was puzzled. "Why would you bring us to a place like this to heal Sirius?" They were walking down the steep decline into the valley. "There's nothing around for miles, like you said."

"Because," Voldemort drawled, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry's skin burned suddenly as they walked forward. It was enough to gasp…but then something took his breath away entirely.

A black, majestic castle – if you could even call it such - lay quietly in the valley, roaming wide on the expanse of earth. It was breathtaking; the estate was fortified like a castle would be, but it more closely resembled the Malfoy's manor than it did a castle like Hogwarts.

It was only one story, for starters. Well, two at the most – Harry could not quite tell from so far above. There were not any plants or trees. Just a quiet castle that ironically fit perfectly in the large valley.

"Where did this thing come from?" Harry asked blankly.

Voldemort snorted softly. "Surely you did not think I would sit on my laurels, did you? After my resurrection, I gathered my followers from Azkaban and brought them to a safe place. I built this manor alone. It required…certain materials…but I managed to acquire them without too much fuss."

Harry looked up at the Dark Lord. "How long did it take?"

Voldemort hummed. "Several days to fully finish. A couple of hours to set up a makeshift hospital for my Death Eaters. Of course, they required medical attention. You read about the missing healers from St. Mungo's last year in the _Prophet_, I presume?"

Harry nodded.

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "You found them. Benjamin, the Healer who took your godfather to the healing ward, was one of the Healers who did not quite understand their initial predicament. They've learned quickly."

"That scar looked brutal," Harry acknowledged with a sigh.

"He learned. Which reminds me…"

Harry was yanked by his hair suddenly until he was face to face with a Dark Lord with a cold expression.

"You will not speak to me the way you did earlier," Voldemort whispered softly. "_Ever_. If you have concerns, you will express them with the fear and reverence that I have earned. If you do, Harry, I shall have myself an experiment."

Voldemort's thumbs traced Harry's cheekbones until they came to rest on either side of his eyes. "These lovely green eyes of yours…I will take them out – but have no fear, Harry; I can just as easily put them back in. I will make you hold each of them in either hand. And then I will curse you. Over and over. With all the interesting curses I have learned over the years. You will be a sobbing mess, Harry, and you'll have only yourself to blame. And the experiment, Harry, will be to see where your threshold for pain lies."

Voldemort's thumbs were digging into Harry's eyes with an alarming amount of pressure. Voldemort tilted his own chin upwards, looking down his nose with a small, devilish grin tugging at his lips. It forced Harry to raise his own head, painfully, but he held the man's gaze.

Harry was no coward.

"How long will you hold out, I wonder?" Voldemort mused. "Your sight will be at stake. One small squeeze of your hands and your sight will be no more. And yet, you always seem to impress me, Harry. If you were anyone else, I would kill you for such an offense. Do not _push_ me. Do I make myself clear?"

The pressure on his eyes was gone and Harry did his best not to blink.

"Clear as mud," Harry replied evenly.

Voldemort grinned. "Good. Enough of such unpleasantness. Shall I show you around, Harry?"

"Sure," said Harry. "Sirius will be okay, right?"

Voldemort nodded once. "We will visit your godfather later. For now, it is time for us to…catch up."

* * *

The Manor was brilliant. Harry caught himself smiling like an idiot several times. The welcoming hall had rows of roman pillars leading to a wide, grand staircase. That was Harry's first impression of the manor, and it only got better.

The most striking room of the entire manor was definitely the throne room. Yes, Voldemort had one. And yes, it was absolutely intimidating and awe-inspiring. It was a dark room full of shadows, but light streamed in from a window far above.

The light could wait, though. The throne room was long and rectangular and surely voices would echo in here, right? Harry faked a bit of a cough to test his theory, but there was no returning echo. It was as if the room was in a vacuum.

A long, wide, silky black rug caressed a charcoal-colored marble floor. It was embroidered at the hems with a gold and green material, leading all the way up to a magical throne set upon seven, regal stairs.

Well…not set upon, technically.

The throne was _floating_, you see, on a dark cloud. Could it be from the fact that the throne seemed to be made of _wands_?

There was a balcony above, trailing around in a horseshoe-styled fashion and supported with Romanesque columns.

A large banner, green and silver, hung horizontally on the wall behind the throne. It was almost as big as the room itself. Harry was enraptured by it; the green in the tapestry moved like smoke, billowing around the coat of arms. A large, half-crescent window let light in atop the banner and throne. And yet, the throne stood out despite the streaming light.

"What is that," Harry asked first, flailing his arm exaggeratingly towards the throne and backdrop before looking at Voldemort in bewilderment. "And how damn long did it take you to make it?!"

Voldemort snorted in satisfaction before examining his nails. "Roughly a week."

"Fuck," Remarked Harry. "Can you build me one?"

Harry grinned at the Dark Lord's reaction.

Now, however, they resided in Voldemort's private study. Harry was lounging in a cornered off couch. Did that make any sense? Harry shook his head slightly, nibbling on the sandwich that Voldemort's house elf had brought him. He was a boy; that description would do.

Harry had noticed something weird as soon as the two of them had entered the manor; Voldemort had vanished his shoes immediately.

"You know," Harry munched contemplatively. "There was something I had been meaning to ask you since we got in here."

Voldemort raised a lazy eyebrow. His arms were fastened together atop his head and one foot was leaning lazily on a knee. Still, his expression promised some form of abuse lest the question be intriguing enough.

Harry pointed at the Dark Lord's feet, popping the last corner of his sandwich into his mouth. "You took your shoes off. We haven't seen _anybody_, either. Aren't your Azkaban followers here? I thought I'd run into at least one of them by now."

Voldemort tilted his head. "I spent a decade as an unfeeling…thing, Harry. Wearing nothing on my feet allows me to feel. It is pleasurable to me."

Harry stopped chewing.

"As for my Death Eaters…" Voldemort grinned. "They are in their individual rooms. I can communicate with them from anywhere, you see. I commanded them and they obeyed."

"What are they like?" Questioned Harry. "I mean, Azkaban's got to be a bitch, right? Are they all…you know, together?"

Voldemort stilled. "They are…in as good a condition as I could have hoped for. A year's worth of therapeutic exercises and open land has benefited them greatly. My healers have done well."

Harry nearly winced at the expression "my healers." Well, he supposed they were his healers, now.

"So…" Harry twiddled his thumbs dramatically. "World domination, eh? How's it going on that front?"

Voldemort smiled sadistically. "Plans are in motion. In fact, I have plans for you as well. Would you like to hear them?"

Harry knew what that was. It was bait to placate him from his earlier outburst. Harry shook his head with amusement.

"Oh no. No, no, no," Harry laughed. Voldemort's eyes grew darker and Harry did not care. "You don't get to have it both ways. Blimey, you ignored me for a year after I saved your arse. I committed myself to your cause, did I not? 'You'll never regret it,' you said. Guess what, Voldemort? You've not given me anything to trust you with."

Voldemort looked at him strangely. "I gave you nothing, Harry? I gave you everything. Knowledge, power, the home you never had…I gave you my favor and means to contact me personally. The latter is something I have not given to anyone else. Clearly you are telling a lie, Harry, so what is your point?

Harry stared back. Well, at least they were not yelling this time. He rubbed his face in frustration. "I just – you can't have it both ways, mate. How else am I supposed to say it? You can't just write out grand plans for me without including me, you know what I mean? Look, let's be honest, here. What do you view me as? A tool? A project? What?"

Voldemort paused, looking Harry over with unsettling intensity. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were halted with a timid rap on the door.

"Speak," Voldemort commanded strongly.

A timid voice spoke: "M-my apologies, My Lord. Your g-guest has been stabilized, however, his condition is l-l-less than ideal. The p-poison ravaged Mr. B-black's systems. Our initial tests indicate that he may never…r-recover."

The words struck Harry like lightning. His godfather…permanently injured. He had to go see him.

"Where is he?" Harry called out. Voldemort shot him a warning look.

"I-in…My Lord, I can show the boy, if it is y-your wish."

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "It is not hard to see where I molded Quirrell's image at Hogwarts, is it, Harry? Very well. You may go with the healer."

Harry rolled off the lounge-thing-that-had-no-name, looking to Voldemort. The Dark Lord said nothing, so Harry turned to the door.

"One more thing, Potter."

Harry turned. Voldemort had stood up and was now mere feet from him.

"I shall take your words into consideration," He murmured softly. "However, let me make something apparent to you. Who is in this room right now?"

Harry was puzzled. "Us?" Voldemort nodded.

"And who is not?"

"The healer outside?"

"And everyone else in this manor," Voldemort clarified. "My presence is a privilege, Harry. You want proof? There you have it."

Harry nodded blankly.

"And Harry?"

"What?"

Voldemort smirked openly.

"You are a Death Eater."

* * *

**See you soon.**

**Brigade**


	4. Bedside

**What's up, folks? I've got the longest chapter so far of EbtD for you. **

**I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge all the kind words you lot send me. It's awesome that you guys enjoy the story. It really is. I read all of it and it fuels me to write. I cannot tell you how many times someone sends me an awesome review, I read it, and then drop everything I was doing to write and plan this story. So...you know. Thanks.**

**I'm sure you all will have something to say about this chapter as well. So...don't let me stop you. **

**Enjoy. And follow me on Twitter at BrigadeEitD!  
**

**'Kay...shameless plug over.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Bedside**

Harry shook his head blankly as he sighed. He was trailing behind the Healer from earlier, up the grand staircase of Voldemort's mansion. It certainly suited the man, Harry mused, as he looked at the dark walls and orderly portraits. And the man's Death Eaters.

Harry scowled at the Healer's back, but not for anything the poor man had done. What did being a Death Eater _mean_? What did that entail, exactly?

Alright, on one hand, Voldemort had given him a definite answer – something that he could work out…eventually. But that answer was _vague_ as hell. He was not even thirteen, yet! He had never lived during the first war. How was he supposed to know what being a Death Eater meant other than being a follower of Voldemort's?

Another thought struck Harry as the party of two reached the top of the staircase and started moving down the corridor; how committed, really, was Voldemort to his Death Eaters? Yes, it was true that the Dark Lord had rescued his most loyal Death Eaters from an inescapable wizarding prison, set up a mansion for their recovery, and lain low all for their benefit…but it had taken him over a decade to do so.

Okay. Harry had to mentally tip his hat at that one. Awfully impressive, that feat.

How many Death Eaters had slithered away when Voldemort fell, though? What did that say about the man's ability to lead? Take Lucius and Snape, for instance. They both had slinked away shamefully when the Dark Lord fell – one through money, the other through Dumbledore. Cowards, both of them. The rest of the so called "Death Eaters," too.

Harry blinked. He had not expected to feel that way.

No one really had the courage to go to Azkaban. Harry supposed, but they should not have even needed to. Were they that easy of targets without the Dark Lord to command them?

Maybe Harry had answered his own question, after all. At least Voldemort had plans for him. That comforted Harry slightly. The man had not simply forgotten about him. Still…he would have to wait and see. And observe.

He had told Voldemort that he was loyal, once, and that he would…serve him. Words meant nothing, in reality. Voldemort's actions would have to earn his loyalty.

"Wait here for a moment, sir."

The Healer did not look at him. Instead, he opened the door in front of him by the narrowest of margins before slipping inside.

Sirius must be inside.

That was another source of emotional instability for Harry. How was he supposed to feel about his new godfather? Well…his godfather was not new, of course, but Sirius was new to _him_. Feelings could not just sprout from nothing, after all, and yet they did when it concerned his godfather. Where did they come from?

The man had tried to save him. That probably had something to do with it. Plus, Sirius seemed like a nice enough bloke…Harry could not hold back the hollow laugh that echoed in the deserted corridor. What a pathetic reason to feel something for someone.

Harry was not good at feelings.

There was also another thing to consider when it came to Sirius. Another person, actually. And that was Remus Lupin.

Remus had become a true friend to him over the past year and Harry had done his best to draw the man back into the Wizarding World, if only just a bit. Remus had withdrawn to an unfortunate degree after the first war, Harry had learned. Such was the life of an outcast werewolf. There was no place for such riff-raff in the pseudo-utopian state of the Wizarding World.

Now…now the man was rooming in a flat with Royce Beeler. The pair apparently got along well enough and Harry had been relieved to hear it; Beeler would be a good influence on Remus. Harry had visited their flat recently, but only Remus had been there. Beeler was always out for Quidditch matches, public appearances, charity events…that sort of thing, Remus had said.

But of course, that was not all they had talked about.

Harry remembered the revelation Voldemort had given him that one night in the Headmaster's office – Peter Pettigrew had been the one to betray his parents, not Sirius - and it made him curious. It was only natural of him, of course, to ask Remus about Sirius Black:

"_Harry, I'll be honest_," _Remus had sighed that afternoon_. "_I do not know what to think about Sirius Black. I still don't. I will tell you this, though – there was no friend of mine who was more loyal. None. Not even your father. Your father's home life was too good, I suppose, to have the type of loyalty that Sirius had. Sirius…he didn't have the best home life and we were his family. We really were. There's no faking that. I…I don't know how that night went. He could have been under the Imperius Curse, he could have been blackmailed…I don't know. Maybe he did betray us all. I just…I just don't know what to think." The man rubbed his face wearily. "The Ministry was in chaos. There were no trials. Well, there were, but they were just parades. A chance to gloat and demean others. They were pointless. Sirius Black never had a chance once he was captured, innocent or not. That's what troubles me the most. I don't _know_. I'll never know. And so…and so I try not to worry about it. I try to remember all of the good times. That's all I have had to cling on to_."

_Harry had frowned. "But what about Peter Pettigrew? I mean, let's say it wasn't Sirius Black who betrayed my parents…it had to have been Peter Pettigrew, right? There was no one else."_

_Remus smiled absently, looking at the clock on his mantle. "It could have been anything, Harry. We really will never know. It…what can I say? All we can do is move on."_

It was just a shame that what had happened happened. That was Remus' favorite line about it all. Harry grit his teeth, looking towards the ceiling. What was he supposed to tell Remus? Sirius Black was innocent – something Harry had known for a while – but Sirius Black was now here. He was alive.

It made everything different. It made everything real.

…He'd have to talk to Sirius about it. Damn. And what was that bloke like, anyway? Ten years in Azkaban. Rotting and withering away. Poisoned and weak. And yet, still his godfather.

The term kept sticking in Harry's mind and he hated himself for it. Godfather implied family, something Harry had never had. It was the same thing Remus had wistfully commented on. Sirius Black was that.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy came to mind. Harry still lived with the Malfoys, of course, and it was something he was eternally grateful for, but he and Draco were treated differently. As they should be, Harry thought. Draco was their son. He was pampered just a bit more. Harry was held more at arms' length. The Malfoy's were proud of him, sure, but they were not family.

Was Sirius supposed to be his family, now? Were they going to be family?

Harry's body jolted as the door in front of him opened slightly. Healer Benjamin stuck his scarred head out.

"You may come in," he said, holding the door open a smidge. Harry looked around…and his eyes locked with those of a man sporting a goatee, looking out of his own door.

"What are you looking at?" Harry taunted awkwardly after an uncomfortable second. The man simply stuck his head back inside his door.

Bloody creep.

Voldemort's private hospital not as large as Harry had suspected it would be. There were no privacy curtains or anything, yet the room seemed pleasant – as pleasant as a hospital could be, mind you – and quiet.

Sirius was propped up on one of the beds with a machine of some sort connected to his side.

He looked pale, Harry noticed first. Extremely pale with large bags under his eyes. The man was shirtless and Harry had to resist the urge to look away. Sirius was unnaturally skinny and his skin appeared too tight. Sirius looked up with dulled eyes and Harry felt rage in his heart.

Azkaban was inhumane. Fucking inhumane.

"Hey Sirius," Harry muttered lowly, moving to the man's bedside. "How are you, erm…feeling?"

Sirius smiled weakly.

"Terrible," He whispered. Harry supposed that was all he could do at the moment. The silence made Harry want to squirm.

"I…my childhood sucked," Harry winced. What was he doing? "Er, I mean to say…I never knew about you. Well, obviously do now, but I didn't know about you at first. I grew up in an orphanage, you see, and – "

"What?"

Harry met Sirius' eyes with confusion. "Pardon?"

"An orphanage?" Sirius whispered with dismay. Harry nodded sheepishly.

"Both of our decades have been pretty rotten, haven't they?" Harry stated sardonically. "I, er…uhm, nice to…meet you?"

Sirius looked at him for a moment before closing his eyes and snorting softly. "I held you and played with you as a baby. Refused to change you nappies, though. That was all on James. Lily and I conspired against him, there. Either way, we're a bit past just meeting, Harry. You're my godson."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "About that…what does that mean?"

Sirius squinted in confusion. "What do you mean what does that mean?"

What _did_ he mean? Harry ducked his head. To hell with it. He would at least try to explain.

"Like I said, I grew up in an orphanage," explained Harry. "And growing up, I had nobody. I…I hated the kids. I hated everybody, really. They were all so mean and crude and…below me. They used to beat me up when I was little. And it wasn't just one of them, it was all of them. They didn't care. And people would come by looking to adopt and then kids would all smile and act friendly when they really weren't. It was sickening.

"I was almost adopted once, too. Nice family," Harry snorted derisively. "They came just like the rest of them – looking to pick out the best kid to suit their own desires. It was like a zoo. And I was four or so, by the way, Sirius, I was really, really little. Just a…just a tyke. And I wanted someone – anyone - to like…me. I wanted someone to love me. So I…I did magic. They ran away."

Sirius Black watched Harry with pained eyes, but the near-teenager did not notice. Harry continued on in a rush. "They hurt me, just like everyone else, and I've never forgiven them for it. After that," Harry shrugged. "It was all about me. I looked after myself and didn't even try to get adopted. I didn't want to go to some random couple coming in off the street, browsing the lot of us as if we were in a petting zoo. Getting my Hogwarts letter was a blessing. It was a way to get the hell out of there and to be on my own. But…I've never had someone like, er…you, growing up. I don't know what to...what to…"

"Expect?" Sirius rasped quietly. Harry swallowed and nodded.

Sirius looked at him for a moment before holding an arm out. "Come here."

Harry did. Cautiously, he leant a leg into the bed, sitting down at Sirius' hip. His godfather's arm reached out to rest where shoulder met collarbone.

"My childhood was rough too, Harry," whispered Sirius. "My parents were mean, rotten people. They were dark and they despised me. I was a shameful thing to them, just because I was a bit different. I don't – I won't be any of that to you. You see, Harry…I was really young when I went to Azkaban. I'm probably not the best choice for a parental figure. Hell," Sirius smiled weakly. "Look at me. I'm connected to a machine and the Healers told me that I'm going to have trouble walking– "

"What?" Harry started. "They didn't tell me that."

Sirius cleared his throat and it sounded more like a cough than anything. "Well…what can I say? I'm not in good shape right now. They have no idea how long it will take for my body to recover. At least I'm out of _that_ place…"

A shudder ran through the man's body. Harry grimaced.

"Either way," Sirius sighed, using a trembling hand to wipe the hair out of his face. "I don't reckon either of us really knows what to do. All I can say is this – look at me, Harry."

Harry looked back to Sirius and too many emotions met him.

"I love you," Sirius said, and it was the clearest three words Harry had heard him say. "How you've gotten through all that orphanage stuff…I don't know. But you deserved better, if only because you are James' kid. Protecting you back in that alley was the best thing I've done in years. I'm so relieved I was able to help you in some small way, even if I got hurt doing it."

"Christ, you really know how to hit a bloke, don't you?" Harry forced out. His eyes stung. "I…thank you."

"Come here," Sirius smiled, and Harry was pulled into a one-armed hug. Harry returned it gently, unable to think what else to do.

Harry averted his eyes as soon as the hug was done. "You will walk again."

"Pardon?"

"You will walk again – you'll walk fine, I mean," Harry murmured. "I'm Harry Potter, see? I'm not the type to just say stuff. And not only will you walk again, you'll be healthier than you've ever been. I promise you that."

Sirius laughed. It was the first time Harry had heard Sirius truly laugh and it made him feel better. "I'm not sure there's much you can do about it, I'm afraid."

Harry shook his head slowly, making a face. "You just watch. In the meantime…just rest up, alright?"

Sirius looked at him oddly, but nodded. A smile then graced his face. "I don't suppose anyone has told you much about your parents, have they?"

Harry could not suppress his grin. "Not much, no. A tidbit here and there. Except, well – "

"What?"

Sod it. Harry would just tell them. "You'd recognize the name Remus Lupin, I'd reckon?"

Sirius' smile widened into a beautiful thing. "Of course I do!" He whispered brightly. "How is Moo - Remus? He keeps in touch, I hope?"

Harry nodded. "I met him a year ago. Dumbledore introduced us. He's brilliant."

"Good, good," Sirius whispered with a sigh as he leant into his pillows. Sirius said it with such relief. It made Harry happy, in a way. The emaciated man was not alone.

"Remus has been to a few of my Quidditch games," Harry went on to say, enjoying the light in Sirius' eyes. "He's actually rooming with a professional Quidditch player at the moment."

"Chaser?" Sirius questioned, shaking Harry's knee as he did so. Harry shook his head.

"Seeker," He grinned.

Sirius scooted up his pillows a bit, wincing as he did so. "You must be brilliant. Your father was fantastic back at school. Would've gone pro if not for…well…"

Sirius trailed off awkwardly. Harry knew why. The war. Voldemort. Speaking of Voldemort…

"Mr. Black. It is fortunate to see you alert and well."

Harry turned his head and let out what seemed to be an endless, silent sigh. Voldemort stopped next to Sirius' bed, looking at the man directly. Sirius, for his part, neither did nor said anything.

"Your godson _is_ quite the sportsman," Voldemort went on to say. "And his talents do not end there. Top of his class two years running at Hogwarts, are you not, Harry?"

Where was the Dark Lord taking this? "Yeah," Harry settled on saying lowly, looking only at Sirius.

"That's…good to hear," Whispered Sirius with confusion. It seemed he knew just as little as Harry.

"On top of that," Voldemort's eyes drew Harry's own. "He's known as the Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Black. He survived a Killing Curse from yours truly. He is famous…every witch and wizard across the country knows his name. Is it any surprise, then, that I approached him to join my cause?"

Understanding hit both Sirius and Harry at the same time, but they both reacted differently – Sirius with anger, Harry with relief.

"No," Sirius spat. "It is not surprising at all. But your cause is not one that is worth fighting for."

Voldemort smirked darkly, looking up at the wall ahead before looking down at the bed-ridden man. "Tell me, Mr. Black; what do you know of my cause? We've never spoken before now and it is only for Harry's sake that I even bother. I do empathize with your plight, however. A man, falsely accused by a system that does not work, left to rot because it was the simple thing to do.

"You were talented in your own right, long ago," Voldemort continued, a strange tone coloring his voice. "An annoying thorn in my side, I'll give you that. And I offer this concession to you now, Mr. Black; you are welcome here to heal. I offer you sanctuary here and no wand shall turn against you. In return, however…you will not act against me. I may even let you in on a thing or two…for Harry's sake, of course."

Sirius' eyes held confusion. They darted to and fro and Harry almost smiled in his relief. He had known it for a while now, but Voldemort could fucking _talk_. The Dark Lord was more than just a few colorful words. He said things that made sense.

Best of all, Voldemort's intervention delayed a long and awkward conversation.

"Agreed," Sirius muttered at last, but he was a far cry from happy about it, Harry saw. What else was he to do, though? "For Harry's sake. Not out of any loyalty to you. You'll never get that."

Voldemort gave Sirius another of his patented smirks. It oozed superiority. Voldemort's voice, however, was soft. "Much has changed in the past ten years, Mr. Black, for both of us. We also hold many misconceptions of the other – but I am sure those shall be resolved by our close association, hmm? Common ground can always be found. For instance, neither of us have exactly enjoyed the previous decade. Harry's has been less than desirable, as well. But we _can_ change it now."

Sirius showed no emotion. His grey eyes were like steel. "You will tell me about my brother. Everything."

"If that is what you wish…so be it," Voldemort dipped his chin. And Voldemort's word, it seemed, at least in his own house, settled everything.

* * *

"You will inform both Lucius and Severus of my status. Tell them to prepare. It is my…first command for you as my Death Eater."

Voldemort guided Harry back to his study where there was a hearth waiting for him. Darkness had fallen, Sirius was asleep, and it was time to get back to Malfoy Manor.

Voldemort spoke those last words with humor and Harry appreciated it as such. He wasn't a _real_ Death Eater, was he? Not yet, at the very least. The irony of the entire statement was not lost on him, either. The word "command" did not describe Voldemort's statement, either. A command was straightforward. Obey, or suffer the consequences. Harry and Voldemort...well, they understood each other. Harry had forgotten how similar they were in their time apart. He felt like a right git for yelling at the Dark Lord earlier, now.

There was a mutual respect between them. And out of respect, he would do what Voldemort asked.

"Hand me your ring."

Harry did as he was told. Voldemort examined the silvery band with curiosity before his wand touched the metal surface. Voldemort murmured underneath his breath as he did so.

"A portkey," Acknowledged Voldemort, handing the ring back to Harry. "You will know when I call you. And you shall use this ring to arrive."

Harry tipped his head and now it was his turn to scrutinize the ring. "Voice activated, I assume? That's not exactly easy."

"I am me," Voldemort scoffed. Harry shook his head in exasperation.

"No, I meant – bloody hell, you don't take compliments well, do you?"

Voldemort grinned, reaching for the Floo powder. "I do not require them. Do not expect too long of a wait."

"Pardon?"

"I will be calling sooner than you realize," Voldemort said slowly. "Be prepared, Harry. I will be introducing you to my Death Eaters. My most trustworthy ones. War is coming."

"That soon, huh?" Voldemort simply stared. It told Harry everything he needed to know.

"You know," Harry chuckled lightly. "I never asked you this. Did you ever try to win the Wizarding World over peacefully?"

Voldemort snorted softly, a bit of a sneer taking its place. "I considered it, once, in my youth. But let me ask you this, Harry: what are your feelings toward the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge?"

"…He's pathetic," Harry settled on saying. "And a dirty ruler. Weak."

Voldemort's sneer intensified. "And there's the rub, isn't it? To conquer peacefully, you make the decision to leave those unworthy people with power. Peaceful means are not necessarily righteous, especially when it means leaving rats like Fudge in power.

"And to think, to do as you ask, I would have to sully myself to rub elbows with that sort," Voldemort's expression to Harry exactly what he thought of that idea. "No…nothing will change a culture, nothing will inspire change...like war.

"Besides," The Dark Lord chuckled darkly. "I like hurting people."

Harry shrugged with a grin. "I've got to admit that I like hurting people, too. Only when they deserve it, mind you."

Voldemort clasped Harry's shoulder and steered him towards the grate. "That's the thing, Harry; anyone who opposes me deserves it. Go. I will see you soon. Learn to heal properly."

"Malf - you git! Malfoy Manor!"

Harry shot through the dizzily disorienting Floo system before his feet touched marble flooring once more. He was lucky that the Floo dropped him off where he should be. He was home.

"Harry! You alright, mate?"

"I'm fine, Draco," Harry muttered wryly. Honestly, had he not proved he could defend himself?

Draco _would_ be the first to greet him, though.

"But you got the…you know, right?" Draco whispered furtively. Harry blinked.

"The what?"

"The – come on, Harry! The – you know!"

Oh. Oh! Harry patted his robes quickly, reaching into his pocket. The gem from Borgin and Burke's from earlier lay innocently in his hand. How had he forgotten about that?

"Welcome back, Harry –"

"Shit!" Harry breathed as he jammed the gem out of sight before smiling brightly at Lucius and Narcissa.

"Evening, Lucius!" He chirped. Lucius did not look impressed.

"Harry?" Drawled Lucius. He might as well have demanded answers. Harry snuck a look at Draco. His friend looked like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It's…it's a long story – one you probably need to know about, Lucius," Harry chuckled tiredly. "A…mutual friend of ours says to get ready."

"To get read- ah," Lucius stilled. Narcissa looked to him questioningly, but he made no notice of her. "Indeed. Very well. It is late, boys; I would suggest retiring for the evening."

"But father – "

"Draco," Lucius warned. Harry had always appreciated Lucius' way of doing that. The man's voice went flat and dark, just a tad louder than his normal tone. Draco sighed and walked away. Harry nodded good night to Lucius and Narcissa and trailed after Draco, but not before hearing the beginnings of a discussion:

"Honey, what did he mean – "

"Later. Now is not the time."

* * *

Draco had not wanted to talk much after that. Harry had shown him the gem and Draco's eyes had lit up, but then the boy had sneered and headed off to bed. Harry could empathize; it was not fun to be treated as a child.

Harry could see Lucius' side of it, too. Draco's birthday had passed just a few weeks ago, but he was still only thirteen. Of course, Harry himself was twelve, but their situations were very different.

Besides…how was Harry supposed to tell Draco about Voldemort? '_Hey Draco, do you remember in our first year when I showed you the rituals that I had done? Well, Voldemort found out, blackmailed me, killed Ron Weasley, and then I helped him steal a mythical stone that you never even knew was in the castle that gave him his body back. Now, he's about to start another Wizarding War – no big deal, right?_'

Yeah. That would go over splendidly. It could not be helped, at the moment…especially when the Jade of Future Knowledge sat prettily in his lap.

It sure was something, Harry thought. He sat atop his downy bed with his legs crossed and considered what came next. What would he see?

Maybe he would see what happened next with Dumbledore. Harry was still livid at the old man and still planned on getting revenge for everything. For lying. For deserting him to suffer in an orphanage. Perhaps he would see Dumbledore at his feet, begging for forgiveness? That thought warmed Harry's heart.

According to Voldemort, another war was imminent. What would that be like? War was a grim and foul thing, right? But so much could be won from it. Who would win? What would the spoils be?

Harry picked the little jade up in his palm, turning it over slowly. It was ironic. Something so small could house so much power. There was a chance that the little jade would not even show him something interesting. It was unlikely, though. Harry just wanted to see – to take a peek.

The mirror from his first year had gotten him curious, after all. Harry had seen himself from the future, had he not? Tall, strong – and with a beard! His magic had whipped around on its own. He had seen everything he had ever wanted to be.

He had to know.

Gently, Harry held the Jade of Future Knowledge in his fingertips, licking his lips nervously before pressing it to his forehead. This would work on its own, right? Hold it to his forehead, Borgin had said. If that bleeding little codger had lied to him…

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_Harry ducked swiftly, his leg screaming murder at him. This was not the time to give out. Killing Curses were not the time to get sloppy. Harry flung his wand out, desperate to buy himself some time. _

"_Vulvanium!" Harry growled. The orange spell missed its target, but it gave Harry a chance to right himself. "Confringo!"_

_The spell was deflected by a shield and Harry wanted to sigh. This was damn near hopeless, but what choice did he have? Kill, or be killed. _

"_Avada Kedavra!" His opponent laughed. Harry dove away._

"_Come now, Harry! Just you and I! I'm not good enough for the Killing Curse, eh? No more hiding!"_

_Harry wanted to snap. He wanted to do it so badly. Two words. That is all it was, right? But he just could not, for whatever reason. It just would not work for him. Perhaps it was memories of that night, but he just could not use the Killing Curse._

_He could not use it. Not against…him._

_Harry sat behind a tree now, using the cover for just a moment. The marshy environment dampened the hems and seat of his trousers. He spat out the blood pooling in his mouth and rubbed his jaw. This would not last. It could not last._

"_You will do as I say," His opponent whispered. "Or you will die. But not yet…no. Your precious friends will be first, Harry. Draco Malfoy. Nott, Zabini. Cedric Diggory. The two Weasleys. That wench of a girl you're with nowadays._

"_And then Sirius Black will meet his maker," The voice whispered triumphantly. "But not before I force him to see you at my feet. And I will kill the werewolf as well, in front of Black. And everyone you cherish will fall."_

_Harry's rage built. He looked down at his wrists, and through the blood he could see his markings. His runes. All the rituals he had done in his life to prepare himself. Greatness was waiting for him._

_No. He would not let any of that happen. He had been told such things all his life. No one would stop him._

"_You will not, Voldemort," Harry shook with anger. He was much taller that he used to be, almost eye-to-eye with the demon forcing his hand. "I don't want to kill you. I thought we were in this together. You want to throw all of that away?"_

"_Together?" Red eyes twisted in mocking sympathy before a cruel laugh bubbled forth. "You were never more than a means to an end, Potter. A tool. And that's the funny thing, Harry…all of my followers think they matter more than they do. They all think they mean something to me…it's cute."_

_Harry gripped his wand tightly as Voldemort stepped to him. _

"_You mean nothing," Voldemort whispered. "You fought so valiantly to be something, but you're just a twig under my boots. A thing to be crushed. Just like your parents…"_

"_You motherfucker," Harry breathed. Voldemort laughed, a tinge of insanity creeping in. _

"_You're alone now, boy," Voldemort grinned. "Avada – "_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_Desperation forced Harry's hand. His wand had snapped to attention and now Harry saw green and looked into the eyes across from him. Surprise and horror swirled together as the spell launched Voldemort into the air. Screams permeated the night and Harry clung to his head. Pain embraced him, meeting him as a friend as he clawed at his chest. He was dying, just as the man laying feet from him was dying. _

_Green overwhelmed him._

Harry toppled over the side of the bed and onto the rug below. Breathing heavily, he simply stared at the ceiling above him.

"Fuck," Harry whispered. Sleep, it seemed, would be an elusive thing, tonight.

* * *

**Indeed it will be, Harry. Until next time.**

**Brigade**


	5. Cauterization

**How's it hanging, everyone? Some of you really hated the ending of the previous chapter, huh?**

**Working 40 hours a week sucks, but I've got the newest chapter of EbtD here for you. And beware - this chapter and the one following it will be a hell of a ride. Enjoy.**

**You can follow the story on Twitter at BrigadeEitD.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Cauterization**

The Jade of Future Knowledge plagued Harry's mind for days. In the daylight, Harry would plod along to his normal schedule, but his heart really was not in it. At night, sleep was a far cry from restful. His mind's efforts were focused on the single event that the jade had shown him.

Harry did not even attempt to hide his conflictions in Fudge's presence. The Minister had guffawed and patted him on the back when Harry had seen the man last. "Girl trouble, eh, Harry?" The Minister had asked. A forced smile and a stiff nod solved everything where the Minister was concerned; he was such a simple man…

Narcissa and Lucius were a different story. The Malfoys had no idea that Harry's problem was so severe, but that certainly did not prevent them from asking questions. Neither of the two Malfoys had confronted him, necessarily, but subtlety was a strongpoint of theirs. Carefully worded inquiries went a long way. Harry had almost let something slip to them more than once; his solution was usually to leave the room.

Draco had sulked for a few days after Harry's return from Voldemort's stronghold, but even he was beginning to grow curious. Harry had told the boy that he was being silly. There was nothing wrong.

He even went flying with Draco that afternoon to prove the point. It was a halfhearted attempt, of course. The thoughts in his mind were moving faster than a threstral, just as they had all week.

Voldemort could not be trusted, despite everything he had said. It made Harry's stomach ache. It made his heart hurt. It made him angry. Every word of encouragement, every act of…kindness…it all meant nothing. Harry was no fool. He knew that the jade had shown him something with absolutely no context, but what kind of context would defend the statement: "You were never more than a means to an end. A tool?"

The cynical side of him almost found it amusing. Almost. Of course the Dark Lord was untrustworthy. _Of course_ the Dark Lord was ruthless. Thinking anything else was moronic. For Harry to allow himself to feel _anything_ for the Dark Lord would be disastrous. But he so desperately wanted to trust the man…

Harry had never had anyone, really. It seemed as if he were destined to be alone. The Malfoys were loyal to Voldemort. They were not his family. They never had been, either. They never would be.

Harry's choices…well, they were bleak. Was he supposed to turn to Dumbledore? Not in a million years. Dumbledore would get his comeuppance eventually for all the pain that the Headmaster had ever caused Harry. The Ministry was not even worth considering. Not even a mere thought. What a bunch of incompetent buffoons…

Harry's values were aligned with Voldemort's. That was what was so maddeningly _frustrating_ about the whole mess. He wanted to be on Voldemort's side. It had taken him a long time to realize that fact. He wanted to change the world. Every act of Voldemort's had told Harry that he had a true friend at last. A brother, almost…no. No. He could not let himself think that. Harry had a few friends, but no brothers.

No family.

It seemed…it seemed as if the best course of action was to wait it all out. He would not make the mistake of ever trusting Voldemort, however. No, that phoenix had already burst into flames. Harry would bide his time and stay alert. One sign of betrayal…and Harry would strike first.

"Pass the potatoes, please, Harry."

Harry looked up silently into Draco's eyes. The blond boy looked to the potatoes and back to Harry, raising his eyebrows. Wordlessly, Harry clutched the plate and held it out across the table.

"Thank you."

Dinner this evening was extremely awkward for everyone. Awkward and mostly silent. It was coming up on a week since Harry had returned from Voldemort's hideout. Draco was still disconsolate when it came to his parents. Lucius had treated him as a child and Draco was not really speaking with him. Harry could understand what Draco was trying to do, but it simply would not work on a man like Lucius Malfoy.

The man would win this little battle eventually. Harry chewed his steak slowly, swallowing before looking down to cut another piece. A sharp gasp drew his attention, however.

Lucius had his head bowed and his shoulders trembled ever so slightly as he lost his grip on his dining utensils. They clanged noisily on his plate.

"Lucius, darling?" Narcissa questioned with mild concern. "Are you well?"

Narcissa reached out, her hand gently coming to rest on Lucius' forearm. Lucius drew back sharply, his face growing pale. After visibly collecting himself, he smiled to his wife. "Just fine, darling. It just occurred to me that there was a matter I had forgotten to attend to, today. It really is a pressing matter, as well, I am afraid. Excuse me, everyone…"

Harry thought that Lucius' gaze had flicked to Draco briefly, but he could not be sure. Slowly, Lucius left the dining room.

Narcissa resumed eating as if nothing had happened.

"What, we aren't going to talk about that?" Draco cried, holding his arm towards the door that Lucius had walked through. "Harry, you're with me, right? What was that?"

Narcissa's eyes found Harry. Her expression was calm. Too calm.

"I dunno," Harry murmured, gesturing with his fork. "Your father's a busy bloke, isn't he?"

Draco gaped slightly at him, huffing before returning to his food.

"Unbelievable," Growled Draco. "Absolutely mad, the lot of you."

Narcissa politely ignored Draco's minor tantrum. Harry, however, felt bad for his friend. He was the only one out of the loop. Maybe one day he would tell Draco.

Lucius was headed to Voldemort. That was painfully obvious to Harry. He could not help but to feel curious. With a mental shrug, Harry returned to his plate –

Except he noticed something black on his hand. Like a mist. It crept up his wrist, flowing into the nook of his elbow and Harry held his breath. The blackness rolled upwards, over his triceps and up to his shoulder. Harry sat stiffly, looking to the two Malfoys. No one noticed anything.

Harry was close to panicking. Seriously, how could no one notice this?

"Harry…I require your presence."

Harry inhaled sharply as the voice whispered into his ear. That got the attention of his fellow diners.

"Harry?" Draco said sharply, with a hint of a demand to his voice. Harry clutched his stomach in a moment of instinct.

"Not feeling well," Harry gasped. "Narcissa – bathroom."

"Of course, dear boy," intoned Narcissa in mock-sympathy. "I will send a house elf for you."

Harry bolted, staggering to the door in an effort to sell his…illness. Draco, it seemed, had his doubts.

"First father and now Harry? What is going on?!"

"Hush, Draco. Finish your greens."

"I don't want them! I want someone to tell me what's going on!"

"You will not speak to me in that tone, son. Eat your greens and we will speak after."

Harry closed his eyes out in the hall. It felt like his ring was pulsating. It was oddly relaxing, really. Warm and soothing…until cold whipped at his face. He opened his eyes to see the front doors of Voldemort's mansion, opened in welcome. The lighted mansion harbored a uniquely spooky atmosphere in the darkness. Fun.

Harry tentatively stepped inside. The doors shut behind him – probably the house elves – and he looked around the empty entrance hall. He was not ready for this. He was not ready to speak to the Dark Lord. But…Voldemort did not know, did he? No, he had no reason to suspect Harry of anything. Harry would have to remain calm. Voldemort could _not_ know that he knew.

'_I need to stop thinking before I get dizzy_,' Harry thought sardonically.

Where was Voldemort, anyway? Would he not come and welcome Harry himself?

Muted voices drew Harry's attention. They were coming from the throne room, just off the entrance hall. Voldemort must be in there. But…if he was there, and there were other voices…

"Welcome, Harry."

Harry gulped, drawing his hand across the threshold of the entrance to the throne room uncertainly. There were more people inside. Many more. About a dozen, it seemed, and it took only a few steps for Harry to realize who they were.

They were Voldemort's Death Eaters from Azkaban.

They all stood in varying shapes and sizes. Two grey-haired individuals stood nearest Harry, left of Voldemort's throne. One was tall and reedy and his hair was shortly cropped. The man's nose was long and narrow, ending in a point. The man's eyes followed him sharply.

The other's hair was longer, greasy, and with lazy curls. The gentleman looked out of place, really. There was a small pock-mark on his cheek, but his expression was demure in comparison to most of them.

Nearest to the throne on the left side was a woman with two men behind her. The two men looked related, Harry thought. One was thick-set and the other more slight, but both of them had brown hair and questioning expressions. Neither of them stood out much, though. Especially with the woman in front of them.

She was still pretty, Harry thought, quite a feat considering a decade in Azkaban. Thick, dark hair fell around her face effortlessly, giving way to heavy eyes and a strong jaw. It was her eyes, though, that startled Harry. They were almost black, it looked like, but they held such…intensity. Such scrutiny. Harry averted his own eyes.

A familiar face rested to the right of the throne. Lucius' hair stood out like a fire in the dark room. It made Harry feel marginally better, actually. At least he knew somebody.

Two somebodies, now that Harry noticed Snape was there a well. The Potions Master looked on at him passively. Harry gave the man a small nod. Best not to disrespect his Head of House, right?

A man with grey attacking the hair at his temples stood next to Snape. The man had a large face and a cleft chin nearly hidden by the hints of a beard. That particular man's eyes held danger.

A reedy man with sandy hair stood to the right as well. Large bags stood out underneath his eyes, and he too seemed out of place. The man gazed at him with a dipped head through thin eyebrows.

The final man was familiar to him as well. The man's face stood out – he was the one Harry had seen in the hallway last week. The dark man with the goatee. He was broad and sturdy, now that Harry could see all of him, with a long, pale face. The goatee suited him, and the man looked on quietly.

The room was covered in shadows, creating a much more eerie atmosphere than the last time Harry had seen the space. It was downright creepy, actually. Harry could only see ten meters or so in front of himself. He could see Voldemort clearly, though, as he sat atop his throne. The throne was enveloped in a dark mist, not unlike the mist that had appeared from Harry's ring minutes ago.

They all looked on at him in silence, and it was beginning to grow unsettling.

"Hello," Harry said after clearing his throat, standing just before the steps leading up to Voldemort's throne. "Er…doing well, I guess?"

Voldemort grinned lightly, looking to his Death Eaters. "As you all can see, Harry has a certain charm to him. I am sure you can attest, Lucius?"

Lucius nodded slowly, looking at Harry with as much uncertainty in his eyes that Harry himself felt. "Of course, My Lord. Harry has been a pleasure to have in our home. Narcissa and I thank you for allowing him to reside in our manor."

Harry scrunched his eyes at Lucius' tone. He sounded…weak. Scared. Harry looked up to Voldemort's throne and Voldemort's eyes locked with his own. The red eyes held more amusement than Harry had ever seen in them.

Voldemort was toying with Lucius.

"It's been fun," Harry shrugged slightly. "So…how much have you told this lot about me?"

"I've informed them of your role in my resurrection," Voldemort gestured with his arm. "And of how it resulted in their own freedom. You are amongst friends now, Harry."

"Uh…cool," Harry replied uncertainly. The one woman of the group was still freaking him out with her tilted head and slightly-too-wide leer. "You approached me first, of course. We both came out of our agreement much better off, didn't we? We all did."

Voldemort nodded slowly. "Me – with my body restored. You – with more talent and the means to capitalize on it than the rest of Hogwarts combined."

Silence reigned and the awkwardness crept up once again.

"So, er –," Harry blurted. "You mind introducing me to the…you know."

Voldemort's eyebrow rose from atop his throne. "To my Death Eaters? Harry, you are now one of them. They are now your family."

Harry almost flinched. "Yes, but I do not know them, yet. Is there – "

"Very well," Voldemort cut in impatiently. He waved his hand to his right. "Travers, Rookwood, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix. The latter four are in my Inner Circle."

They each nodded or made themselves know by other means. Bellatrix, the woman, had laughed softly.

Rookwood and Travers were the two grey-headed men – Rookwood was the more peculiar looking of the two who smiled when his name was called. Travers had scowled when Voldemort left him out of the Inner Circle. Voldemort did not seem to notice.

"Lucius and Severus you already know, of course," Murmured Voldemort. "But beside them…these are Dolohov, Barty, and Mulciber. All five are in my Inner Circle."

Dolohov was the broadly-built bloke that Harry had seen in the hallway. Barty was the straw-haired man. Mulciber was the dangerous looking one next to Snape.

"Nice to meet you all," Harry dipped his head. Let it be known that he had some common sense, especially when they all stood there…staring. He turned his attention back to Voldemort. "So…I'm here."

Voldemort grinned darkly, rising slowly from his throne. "Yes, you are. Are you prepared?"

"For…what?" Asked Harry.

Voldemort walked down the steps, looking at Harry all the while. He stopped right in front of Harry.

"For war," he whispered. "And for a final…test."

Voldemort turned around abruptly, leaving a stunned Harry in his wake before ascending a few steps once more.

"Those of you who reside here with me knew that this was coming," Voldemort addressed his followers. "Lucius, Severus, Harry – you were each warned. Tonight is the true night of our return. Tonight…the Death Eaters are reborn.

"It's a funny thing," Voldemort smiled, his arms out wide. "Truly amusing. When I was reborn and my magic returned – surely you all knew? The marks on your arms returned with me, a sign of my power. Every former Death Eater of mine knew."

The Death Eaters all made gestures of agreement. Bellatrix was caressing her arm, grinning. Damn, she was distracting.

"You were the only ones," Voldemort whispered, the humor leaving his voice. "You were my faithful. Each of you in this room contributed to my return – to my glory. For each of you, my most loyal friends – there were ten who were unfaithful. Ten for each of you who cowered in fear as the darkness fell. Did you think that I would let them off easily? No, no…I demand repayment for their sins. Lord Voldemort does not forget these things…He always remembers, you see. And so, I made a decision. I allowed them all to lie with their sins against me. I have waited so _long_ to call them all...Do you think they tossed and turned at night, my Death Eaters? The traitors. Do you think that they were able to put on a brave face in public? Or did their fear take over? Did they cower in solitude? I am sure that they were frightened…at first. Scared that I would hurt them, just as they deserved to be hurt. But then, it became a mystery in their minds, didn't it?"

Voldemort laughed darkly before adopting a cowering pose. "Where is he? What's happening? Is he back? Will he hurt me? Please, don't let him hurt me! He will hurt my family! He will hurt the children I've begotten since I forgot the old days!"

The Death Eaters laughed. Harry himself smirked at the Dark Lord's act.

Voldemort grew serious once more, but eagerness flooded his voice. "My Death Eaters – my brothers and sisters in the name of cause – I will not hurt their children. I am a merciful Lord; they have done me no wrong." Voldemort trailed off for a moment before smirking, wagging a finger at them all. "…But their fathers. Their mothers. They shall pay for forgetting me. For turning away from me. They will bleed for trespassing against your own sacrifices.

"Lucius, Severus," Voldemort spun suddenly, pointing vaguely in their direction. "The two of you have paid the price for your transgressions, have you not?"

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius murmured lowly. Snape merely nodded.

"They have served me well in the past year," Voldemort announced to the others. "And as long as they continue to do so, no further punishment will be enacted unto them. May neither of you ever waver again – I do not forget."

"No, My Lord," said Lucius.

"Of course, My Lord," acknowledged Snape.

"I beg your pardon, My Lord," the man named Travers spoke. Voldemort gazed at him inquisitively, but Harry could tell that the man's patience was not long, tonight. "But the boy – "

"Harry Potter," Voldemort corrected with a drawl.

Travers nodded jerkily. "Yes, My Lord. Potter. You said that we are all family united by our cause. Does that go for Potter as well?"

Voldemort looked at the man as if he were daft. Harry felt equally outraged. Who was this fuck, thinking it was alright to look down on him? "He is indeed, Travers. Why on earth would I invite a teenager to our meeting here unless he was of use to me?"

"I meant no offense – " Travers stuttered. Voldemort rushed to him.

"Do not _lie_ to me," sneered Voldemort. "You doubt Harry Potter, but let us look at facts, _Terrance_. You have spent a decade in Azkaban, away from your magic and rotting in a cell. Harry, however…he had _me_ with him. He learned his skills directly from your Lord. Do you doubt me…Terrance?"

"O-of course not, My Lord," Travers blurted, wide-eyed. Voldemort scoffed.

"You will find out soon enough," the Dark Lord whispered mysteriously. Harry furrowed his brows.

"My Death Eaters…enjoy this moment. Take a breath and savor it. Bellatrix – to me."

Bellatrix let out a happy little noise, one of relish. Harry watched, mystified as she knelt on one knee, offering her arm out to the Dark Lord. Harry saw a large tattoo on her left forearm.

The Dark Mark.

Voldemort gazed upon it with a grin, his eyes flicking briefly towards Harry before returning to the mark.

"Behold…in mere moments, your 'brothers' will experience the fright of their lives. Three, two…one."

Voldemort pressed his wand to the center of the mark. Bellatrix balled her fist and grimaced slightly, but the look of absolution on her face made the pain seem meaningless.

The Dark Mark grew even darker, if that were possible. It glowed beneath her skin. Those in the room collectively winced and Harry realized what had just occurred. Voldemort had just summoned…everyone.

Let the hysteria begin.

* * *

Bodies littered the marble floor, splayed out in every which direction. Some had heads…some did not. Harry watched in mingled horror and awe as another man was struck down – this one by Mulciber, blood spraying rudely from a wicked gash across the former Death Eater's neck.

This had been going on for hours. Voldemort sat on his throne regally, looking out in disdain at the gathered Death Eaters all cowering in fear. The doors to the throne room were barred shut, guarded by Severus Snape and Antonin Dolohov. Voldemort had summoned his Death Eaters and they all answered his call. They were all originally nameless in the crowd, faceless behind their masks, but Voldemort knew each and every one of them. His opening words to them all had been…chilling:

"_Welcome!" Voldemort had beckoned, waving his arms like a benign leader. Harry watched from the balcony – Voldemort had commanded all of the loyal Death Eaters upstairs for the time being – as the traitorous Death Eaters entered. They walked tentatively, but Voldemort sat on his throne, smiling like a loving father who was seeing his children for the first time in years._

_It was a trap. How the fuck could they not tell?_

_He gave them all a few minutes to settle in – those who had been too cowardly to return would be dealt with, eventually – and then Voldemort had stood, arms wide._

"_My loyal followers, it has been much, much too long. For eleven years, we have all been apart. Eleven years. How have you all been? Your families?"_

_Voldemort's tone started light and airy, but took a drastic, dark turn. Coldness swept through the room. "It has been eleven years and seven months, if you'd like to get technical – which, if you would indulge your poor leader for a moment, I would. Six-hundred and seven weeks. Four-thousand, two-hundred and fifty-three days. My loyal subjects…I profess myself disappointed."_

"_TAKE THEM OFF!" Voldemort shouted suddenly, startling everyone assembled. "YOUR ROBES! YOUR MASKS! TAKE THEM OFF AT ONCE! HOW DARE YOU SHOW UP IN MY PRESENCE, WEARING THE GARMENTS THAT I PROVIDED YOU? YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF THEM! YOU ARE NOT WORTHY TO LICK MY FLOORS CLEAN!"_

"_What do you think, Harry? Has our Lord impressed you, yet?" Bellatrix sidled over to laughingly whisper in his ear. Harry nodded slowly._

"_It's like – you feel scared, even though you know he has nothing against you," he whispered back. "He's that powerful."_

_Bellatrix caressed his hair. It sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine, but fuck it; he would let her. Harry was not sure that he really wanted to do anything to cause a fuss at the moment – especially when Voldemort was in such a state. "He is the most powerful of us all. He does not need me to say this for him, but I will anyway. Don't ever betray him…or I'll cut you up myself."_

"_Lovely," Harry grimaced. "Thanks."_

"_Anytime, little Harry."_

"_Not little."_

"_Oh, really?" Bellatrix puckered her lips before leering once more. "Alright then, big, strong Harry; how big are you?"_

_Harry merely looked at her before scoffing and shaking his head in amusement._

"_I think I like you," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "Go away before you ruin it."_

_She laughed, walking away and Harry looked down again as the Death Eaters all made haste, stripping themselves of their clothing. Most of the witches and wizards wore their robes traditionally; they now stood in pants, knickers, and similar states of undress, all experiencing the deepest sense of terror that they had ever felt._

_God help the man who had been unfortunate enough to wear a thong to the meeting._

"_In my years of exile," Voldemort walked down the steps, out into the dozens of undressed witches and wizards gathered, and brought an index finger up to rest against his temple. "I had many thoughts. They swirled around in my head, round and round…and they taunted me. They kept me company. A recurring one, however, was that surely…_surely_ one of my Death Eaters was competent. Surely one of my number could take an initiative. But no. No…none of you cared enough, it seems. None of you were loyal enough to leave the comfort of your homes. No…instead of competency, I found cowards."_

_Voldemort sniffed dramatically. "There is the stench of fear amongst you. Of guilt. Of desperation. Where were these feelings, I wonder, when your brothers and sisters were being shipped off to hell?"_

"_My Lord – "_

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!" _

_The man slumped over, a lifeless lump. The green from Voldemort's spell had lit up the entire throne room. Many squeaked or shouted in fear and Voldemort snarled at them all._

"_YOU WILL NOT SPEAK!" He commanded. "YOU WILL MAKE NO NOISE! YOU HAVE CHOSEN YOUR PATH AND YOU. WILL. LISTEN."_

_Voldemort's tone grew soft. "None shall escape my wrath. You see…I have noticed something. It grows each day, and it is uncontrollable – a festering wound within my ranks. Gaping wide…oozing disease. It cannot remain. It must be gouged out - burned away completely._

"_Tonight," Voldemort laughed, clapping his hands. "We shall all have a night to remember! Tonight will be the night where Lord Voldemort cauterized his ranks. And after tonight, the wound will heal…without many of you."_

_Voldemort walked back, slowly, to his throne. Harry could hear whimpers of fear and sobs of terror, but Voldemort took no notice at all._

"_You will stand before me. You will stand before your Lord and you shall await judgment," Voldemort commanded. "In many of your cases, you shall beg for your life. Perhaps you will be successful…of course, that is not just for me to decide."_

Voldemort's Inner Circle plus Travers went down there then, frightening the unfaithful once more. What followed was bloody, gruesome, and cruel. The Death Eaters would walk forward, one by one, and Voldemort would look at them in silence. That was all. He would merely look at them. And then, he would _decide_.

Harry took a look around. Well. If the Death Eater in question was lucky, they were tortured. Voldemort would flippantly waive a hand and one of the Azkaban followers would drag the poor sod off into the recesses of the room. There were screams. There were sobs, pleading words…broken, strangled cries.

Harry…had to applaud Voldemort. This was _amazing_.

Part of him wanted to feel revolted, but he simply could not get there. These people had pledged allegiance to a Lord. They had devoted themselves to their cause, but fled at the first sight of danger. They abandoned their cause much too easily.

It was better to be viewed and imprisoned as an extremist, Harry thought, than to be another nameless, faceless, causeless member of society. Besides…Harry knew none of these men or women. Why should he care? Especially when the latest one, a fat, disgusting little man, begged and pleaded for his life?

There was one older man that Harry recognized at last…but only because he knew the man's son. Voldemort sat up, smiling cruelly at the man.

"Cantankerous Nott the Second," Voldemort whispered harshly, his words beating down on the man clad only in a thin, worn pair of boxers. "The former member of my Inner Circle."

Nott looked up in a panic, his blue eyes widening in fright before looking down once more.

"My Lord! No!" Nott gasped, falling to his knees with a muted thud and bowing low to the ground. "I-I prostrate myself before you. I am your most faithful – "

"That will do," Voldemort growled in contempt. He stalked down the steps before standing still in front of the man. "How's the family, Nott? Is your boy Theodore doing well at Hogwarts? Your wife?"

"My w-wife is dead," Nott chattered. Voldemort grinned maniacally.

"I know," he whispered. "Stand."

Nott raised himself up, using his knee as a point of leverage. As soon as he rose up, Voldemort struck, slapping the man to the floor with the back of his hand.

"You were one of my first Death Eaters, Nott," Voldemort snarled. "Time, it seems, means nothing to you."

Nott crawled pitifully, rolling onto his back with a hand raised, pleading for mercy. Harry scrunched his nose; the man's pants were falling off. What a pathetic sight.

"You do not deserve my mark on your arm," Voldemort muttered spitefully. "You do not even deserve my wrath. I ought to send you off to one of my faithful for punishment."

Nott whimpered. It was not the answer Voldemort had been hoping for, it seemed. With a growl of hatred, Voldemort kicked the man. Harry winced; the toe of Voldemort's boot had gone underneath the man's ribs.

Nott rolled in agony, but Voldemort was not done. He grasped the man's greying brown hair and wrenched back. Nott screamed as his hair was ripped from the roots. Voldemort rose up, straddling Nott as the floored man brought his hands up to his head.

"You have so much to pay for," Voldemort informed him. "I trusted you, Nott. You had everything. You were one of my favored. Now…not so much."

Voldemort lashed out once more, his fist crashing into Nott's mouth. Harry watched, almost averting his eyes as the man's skull crashed down into the floor.

"You live…for now," Voldemort sighed. Nott's hair, previously ripped from his skull, now stuck to his face in a matted layer around his bloodied mouth. "You will earn your spot back, Nott. You will prove yourself to me once more, or you will die."

Travers had then been sent to drag Nott out of the hall. Harry sneered as the man moaned. So that was the father of his friend. A pathetic, blubbering mess of an old wizard. Poor Theo.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. One by one, the tortured Death Eaters limped off. The dead were disposed of. By Harry's count, there were at least two dozen killed. It did strike Harry as bizarre; Voldemort had essentially killed a quarter of his followers.

Whatever. If Voldemort felt the need to kill them…who was he to care?

The group of Death Eaters remaining was down to its original size: the Azkaban escapees, Lucius, Severus, and Harry. "Well then," Voldemort clapped his hands mockingly, drawing laughs from them all. Voldemort actually seemed in a good mood after all of that. Well, Harry probably would be to, come to think of it. "I do believe we are done here, tonight. We can move on to our next festivities – ah, no. There is…one more thing that we must attend to.

"Harry," Voldemort called, beckoning him with two fingers. Harry approached slowly, looking into the intense red eyes across from him before stopping shy of the steps.

"Closer," Voldemort intoned, tilting his head. He was standing on the first stair leading up to his throne and all Harry could think was...was this some kind of trick? Harry gritted his teeth and moved closer, right up to the man. Voldemort lowered his head to whisper into Harry's ear:

"Would you like to estimate how many witches and wizards were here tonight, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. Voldemort chuckled wryly, making Harry shiver. "There were one hundred and twelve here tonight. There were another fourteen who were too afraid to return. Do you see, now, how few I can truly trust? I need you to trust me if we're to win this war, Harry."

Harry looked the man in the eyes for just a moment, but averted them as quickly as he could, looking to the throne above him. The hard gaze in those red eyes told Harry everything. _He_ knew. The Dark Lord _knew_.

"There was a night," Voldemort ventured on, his breath ruffling Harry's hair. "Last Christmas, I believe, where we spoke of gods and religion…you said that prayed to gods, did you not? You prayed for a better life and you prayed for help...and I offered myself to you, did I not? I offered to be your god. Let me help you now, Harry. Tonight, you will become my Death Eater…but you are still unsure, hmm? You are still frightened - look at me."

Harry looked up. Voldemort's expression was tight - it seemed that the Dark Lord was not immune to the severity of the situation. "You've never forgiven me for killing your parents, have you? You always brought it up in your first year at Hogwarts and I dismissed it; you were a child, then, weren't you? I always discounted your complaints because they came from a place of petulance, but now...it's an unforgivable crime to you, isn't it? I can understand that. Oftentimes, I find myself unwilling to forgive others. I cannot bring your parents back to you, Harry, nor would I desire to...but Harry, I offer you this, in an attempt to make amends."

Harry looked down. Voldemort's wand was in his hand. Harry looked up quizzically into the eyes of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort smiled, and not unpleasantly. "I offer you a duel," he whispered. "Tonight. Right now."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry…what?"

"A duel," recanted Voldemort with amusement. "I offer you the opportunity to avenge their deaths. I offer you a chance to _punish_ me. But after tonight…it is over. We move on, Lord and subject. We move toward a better future, one that we can only build if we are working together.

"I need you, Harry," Voldemort admitted, placing his hands on the sides of Harry's shoulders. Harry could feel the blunt shape of the Dark Lord's wand pressing into his left shoulder. "You are one of us, now. You are a Death Eater...so how about a duel?"

Harry's heart constricted and the blood in his temples pounded. This was…the exact opposite of what he had seen in the jade. Voldemort…trusted him? He cared enough to offer this? What was he supposed to trust – his eyes, or the jade?

At the same time, though...his blood sang to him in his veins. Harry could feel his body break out in goosebumps. This was a chance to duel the greatest wizard in the world.

Harry would never, _never_ pass that up.

"…Fine," Harry replied dazedly. Voldemort grinned, looking over Harry's head at the Death Eaters.

"This will be most excellent," Voldemort stated lightly, removing his robe before throwing a wicked leer at Travers. "You wanted proof of Harry's skill, Travers? Here you are. Watch closely."

* * *

**There were...so many things in this chapter that I wanted to describe explicitly. So many opportunities to make each and every one of you readers to feel uncomfortable. Ah well...there's still some time for that.**

**I left the final scene out of the chapter. Sorry. I had originally planned to put the duel with this chapter, but it'll work better the other way around. Hopefully, the next chapter does not take as long to produce.**

**See you soon. Feel free to hound me for updates if you like. Reviews probably work the best...there's your sign.**

**Brigade**


	6. Run

**Alright! Here we are. The duel. Voldemort vs. Harry. What are you waiting for? Go ahead. Read.**

**Well, actually, read this first: there is disturbing content in this chapter...more so than in any other one that I've written. Consider this your "trigger warning." It's near the end.**

**Follow me on Twitter (at BrigadeEitD) if you want updates between chapters. If not, that's cool.  
**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Run**

"The duel will go on until you – I beg your pardon – until _one of us_ yields," Voldemort smirked slightly over his shoulder, removing his robe and handing it to the nearest Death Eater. Harry could only shake his exasperation.

"One of these days," said Harry. "That ego is going to cost you. Maybe today is the day."

Voldemort hummed dismissively, examining his wand. "Unlikely. Of course, I suppose that there is a very slight chance that you have learned enough magic in the past year that would surprise me. I guess we will just have to wait and see, hmm? I'm sure Severus will be very proud."

Harry grinned at the Potions Master who seemed as if he desperately wanted to roll his eyes. Harry took the time to squat down, his knees popping soothingly under the pressure. He then stood, bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking Voldemort directly in the eyes.

"I'm ready," Harry claimed. Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"Look at you," said the Dark Lord with amusement. "Ready for a race, it seems. This isn't Quidditch, Harry."

Harry laughed at that. His skin was warm and his muscles felt alive. Dueling was always fun. "No…quite different, in fact. I do know who I'm facing, thank you; I'll have to be ready to move."

"Very well…let us begin," Voldemort nodded graciously. Mischief danced in his eyes. "I do hope you remember…"

And like that, Voldemort vanished. Harry had to fight a grin; this again, eh?

_There_ he was.

"_Stupefy_!"

Voldemort appeared to Harry's left, batting the curse away with derision. "So tame," he scoffed. "You can do better than that."

"But do you deserve better?" Harry waggled his eyebrows. "Big bad Dark Lord who goes invisible. What are your Death Eaters going to say when I beat you?"

Voldemort said nothing. He simply smiled, firing off several spells in quick succession. Harry recognized the first one, but not the two trailing it.

Harry smirked; he was not above showing off. He batted aside the first spell with his arm, much like he did in the duel with Flint in first year. Simpler spells could be blocked with pure magic and it was exactly what Harry just did. He saw the Death Eater Travers out of the corner of his eye; the spell ricocheted in the man's direction – completely by accident, of course.

Harry dove to the right, rolling gracefully away from the other two spells.

"_Crucio_."

"Fuck!"

Harry dove backwards at the blisteringly red curse shot at him, less gracefully this time. He found himself sitting on the marble floor moments later, elbows on his knees. Voldemort shook his head with a chortle.

"Is that it, Harry?" Taunted Voldemort. "Come now. I've seen you duel. It's time to stop fooling around; you are wasting my time."

Harry rose an eyebrow, looking over at the Death Eaters behind the Dark Lord. They all looked intrigued – some even looked impressed. Travers looked angry, though. Harry spat to his right. If he had already impressed them…well.

Harry rolled onto his back, bringing his knees up to his chest. He sprung upwards, launching himself off the ground until his heels clacked against the floor. He threw the Dark Lord a cocky grin. He was not done, however.

Warmth encompassed him and magic pressed to his sides. He could feel it all around him, pulsating readily, tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. That magic lifted him from the floor and into the air. He looked down on the Death Eaters, all staring up at him in shock. His gaze then went to his opponent, Voldemort; the Dark Lord was laughing softly. Voldemort tugged his shirt's sleeves upwards before running a hand through his hair.

"We're not in Hogwarts, anymore," boasted Harry. "Bring it, Voldemort."

Voldemort cackled – he was enjoying this way too much, it seemed. "With pleasure."

Harry gritted his teeth and shot down at the man, blocking a simple curse before launching to the side and shooting off one of his own.

"_Confringo_!"

Voldemort batted Harry's curse lazily, taking a step back as Harry shot towards him. Harry screeched to a halt on the marble floor, turning quickly. Voldemort had to be near…there!

"_Expulso_!" Harry shot the curse through the air to his right. It collided into Voldemort's shield in midair, creating sparks.

"Calling out spells, I see," Voldemort observed, landing swiftly and retaliating with a barrage of his own spells. "Not quite off the training broom, hmm?"

"_Immolatis Aegnum Devoro_!" Harry shouted through gritted teeth. It was a variation of the shield he had used in his duel with Gryffindor. "Shut up!"

To prove his point, Harry threw a silent Entrails-Exploding Curse Voldemort's way. Voldemort twirled away from it.

What he did next caused Harry's eyes to widen. Voldemort brought his wand down, sweeping it up from near his trouser leg and up past his head in a vicious swoop. Green flames shot up through the marble floor, rushing straight at Harry. The boy jumped into the air, allowing his magic to take control and lift him even higher. Just when he thought he had avoided the feral flames, the fire hit the stairs leading to Voldemort's throne and exploded up into the air.

Harry almost panicked. Instead, he turned the tables.

He let the flames get close before spinning himself in midair. The flames followed his wand as his magic directed the flow before exploding outward, scorching the entire second floor of the throne room. The destruction gave him an idea.

"_Oppugno! Imperio!_"

The columns inside the handrails of the second floor wrenched themselves free before shooting down at the grounded Dark Lord. Voldemort met the attack head on. He never saw the attack from behind coming until blood oozed from his left cheek.

Voldemort roared in anger, whipping around and sweeping his arm out; Terrance Travers slid at an alarming speed across the floor, crashing into the double doors with a painful sounding thud.

The Dark Lord's eyes then found Harry's own as the boy landed across from him. Harry smirked in triumph.

"You never said they were out of bounds, you know," Harry murmured softly, attempting to sound as patronizing as possible. "The Imperius is such a fun curse; shame though, that Travers was so full of himself."

The Dark Lord said nothing. Instead, he swiped a hand across his cheek, examining the blood. He smirked slightly.

"Very well done," Voldemort muttered lowly. "That will be the last hit you ever land on me."

Harry scoffed, meeting the man's challenging eyes. "Don't count on that. Everyone likes to underestimate Harry Potter. Just a poor kid from an orphanage. Too small, too weak, just a schoolboy…but you didn't think of that, did you? No Death Eater would _ever_ dare to attack you."

Harry snickered then, lifting his head in superiority. "That is, unless I told them to. Shall I do it again? Or should I try something new?"

Harry was rolling the proverbial dice, here. He had to get a rise out of Voldemort to have a chance. What on earth was that fire thing? Voldemort was holding back, even if it was not readily apparent: Harry knew it, and the Dark Lord knew it. Harry needed to draw out the aggressive side of Voldemort to have any realistic chance of beating him. Harry would run, dive and defend himself however possible. And when an opening appeared…he would take it as if his life depended on it.

Harry wanted to win this duel _so_ badly.

"New would be preferable," acknowledged the Dark Lord. "I feel as though older tricks will be no good here, don't you?"

"They don't know my old tricks though. Well, except for Severus and Lucius," Harry pointed out with a laugh. "Come on, that sledgehammer bit was pretty neat, you've got to admit – "

"I'm no boy, Potter. Such simple things are wasted on me," Voldemort growled. There it was. That flash of anger. Harry dipped his head and broadened his stance.

"You're a Muggle at heart, Voldemort. Face it, mate – _Protego_!"

The grin on Harry's face vanished as he threw up a hasty shield. Voldemort leered at him.

"No Muggle could do that," whispered Voldemort. "Is it wise to taunt me, Harry? You do so love pushing people's buttons – attempting to jab at mine may prove lethal."

"But it's just so much fun!" Harry chuckled. "You get me back pretty well – it's a fair trade, really."

Voldemort did not speak. Instead, he leant forward and crouched down, his shoulders rolling with him. Harry took an involuntary step back.

Three spells shot at him with crackling speed, two swirling in the air. Harry's eyes widened; how did Voldemort do that? His shield held strong under the force of the spells, but a fourth spell broke through. Pain laced down the side of his torso.

"Fuck! _Genuatro_!"

Voldemort disappeared once more, the Knee-Reversing Curse missing by a wide margin. Harry looked around warily, but Voldemort was on the attack again, rushing up on him.

The Cruciatus zipped past Harry's head and he pointed his wand down in a desperate attempt at impeding Voldemort's progress.

"_Arma Diruptia_!"

Voldemort launched himself into the air above the clever spell that Harry had learned from Felix Sykes – he needed to check up on the recently graduated Slytherin soon, but now was _not_ the time – and Harry saw an opening for just a moment.

Not enough time. He would wait, as much as it pained him. Literally. His ribs felt as if they were disintegrating underneath his flesh.

Harry cast pure magic at Voldemort, knocking the Dark Lord aside slightly before launching himself as far away from the wizard as possible. Voldemort had the upper hand now, however, and Harry's respite was much too brief.

Another spell was headed his way. Harry transfigured one of the scorched remains of the upper banister into a shield to eat the spell. Voldemort cast another Cruciatus Curse and Harry did it again before letting his magic lift him from the floor.

"There's much too much Dumbledore in your defensive tactics, Harry," Voldemort called out, another spell headed Harry's way. "We'll be changing that soon enough!"

Harry dove back to the ground, rolling away from the spell with a grunt. His shoulders took the brunt of the fall, right in between his shoulder blades, and he found himself at the base of the steps up to Voldemort's throne.

"_Laedo Morbere_!" Harry shouted. The sickly green curse clashed with a pale blue spell from Voldemort; that was the worst part of this duel for Harry – he did not recognize any of the spells Voldemort was using.

Voldemort was grinning with menace in his expression. Harry knew what he must look like, crouched and guarding his ribs; he was running out of time, and the second conjoined spell from Voldemort of the fight was in midair, barring down on him with its dappled yellow and orange colors.

Instinct took over.

"_Accio_!"

Harry's magic struggled mightily for a fraction of a second, but Voldemort's throne wrenched free from the spells surrounding it. He used the throne as a shield and the wands that made up the throne scattered into the air in a flurry of movement. Silently, just as the spells collided with the once majestic throne, Harry cast another Explosive Charm on the floor.

Voldemort reacted exactly as he had suspected. The Dark Lord had charged forward in a rush, seeking to end the duel. He waved away the wands, looking down on Harry with murderous intent…it was not until he was mere feet away from the charm that he noticed it.

The Dark Lord was _good_, though. Harry knew that Voldemort would counter the spell in time; that is why he was not waiting. Harry charged the man who was preoccupied with his charm and reared back, punching Voldemort directly in the crevice between his cheek, upper lip, and nose. The Dark Lord staggered and Harry followed his physical attack with a dropkick. He could hear a pop from the Voldemort's torso as the heels of Harry's boots connected right underneath his victim's collar bone.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Voldemort's wand shot away on the ground, away from the darkest wizard in the world. "_Crucio_!"

He was crazy for doing it. It was _insane_. But Harry held the torture curse on the Dark Lord with as much intensity as he could muster. Voldemort twitched spastically, rolling from his back to his stomach and again to his back; the Dark Lord did not scream, however. It did not matter. He would soon.

This was it! Harry had the most powerful wizard alive beaten…until something happened that would haunt his dreams.

Voldemort sat up mechanically, hatred in his eyes. His face still twitched under the effects of the curse, but the rest of his body was under control. Forcefully, the Dark Lord threw his arms out, palms outstretched, and Harry felt as if a bull had gored him directly in the chest. He gasped as his body went flying, skidding across the floor until his hip and thigh crashed mightily into the steps of the throne room.

Magic picked him up again, sending him speeding across the other way. His vision was blurred and his breathing labored. Two hands enclosed his neck in a vice, the thumbs mashing into the poor dimple of his throat.

Red eyes oozed hatred. Harry was lifted off the ground and slammed into the marble floor. His vision went black for just a moment.

"Yield!"

Harry came to. He could not breathe. He could barely see. Voldemort was on top of him, crushing him. No! He had to win. This was his moment. Harry drew his left hand back, balling it up into a fist –

Another fist met his face first. Harry gasped as his nose cracked. Blood coated his throat and mouth with alarming brevity. Voldemort's eyes were steeled and unforgiving. Harry could see a hint of whiteness poking out from beneath the Dark Lord's shirt; blood pooled right in the divot of his chest.

"_Cruc_–"

"No, Potter! YIELD!"

Harry was punched in the stomach this time, right below his navel. The pain was maddening.

"Alrighd. Alri-arrrrrgh," Harry huffed. "I yield."

Voldemort released him suddenly, and the pressure on him lifted. Voldemort was rolling off him. Harry gasped his first true breaths with the urgency of someone fighting for life. He splayed his arms out at his side and his whole body went limp. He felt like one giant noodle.

"Oh fud – I feel lide I got hid by a drain," Harry wheezed, spitting blood out of his mouth. "You broded my node."

"You snapped my fucking collar bone," Voldemort snarled from somewhere to his right. Somehow, the Dark Lord had deciphered what he said. "Don't just stand there you simpletons – get a Healer in here!"

"You hurd my ribs," countered Harry, rolling onto his side as a Death Eater ran from the room to obey his master's command. The blood flowed better with him on his side; thankfully, the blood was no longer choking him.

Voldemort looked at Harry in outrage. "You struck me with the Cruciatus Curse. The absolute _audacity_ of you, brat…"

Voldemort trailed off, looking down at Harry. Harry was not sure who laughed first, but in mere seconds, the two of them were laughing far harder than they had any right to do considering their physical states.

Harry found himself grinning through the blood and pain. They still respected each other enough to insult each other, hurt each other, trade insults once more, and then laugh it all off. It made him feel much, much better; everything was as it should be.

"My Lord, Healer Brackenridge is – "

"HARRY! ARE YOU ALRI – YOU BASTARD!"

"Calm yourself, Black," Severus stated dryly from the side. "The Dark Lord and Harry were having a competitive duel. He is fine."

"He is not fine," Sirius growled, using the cane the Healers had given him to limp to his godson and get on his knees beside him. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry coughed. "Psssh. You should dee him."

Sirius looked up in shock to see Voldemort bat at the Healer who was attempting to mend his collar bone.

"You did that?" Sirius whispered. Harry chuckled and nodded. "Almosd won."

"Did not."

"Doo."

"Blimey," Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "What – do you want help up?"

"Yes, get him on his feet," said Voldemort, who cradled his arm to his chest as he stood. "We're going to the infirmary. The rest of you entertain yourselves until we return. The night is not over."

"My Lord," Mulciber spoke up. The Death Eaters all still seemed to be stunned, looking back and forth between the Dark Lord and Harry. "What about Travers?"

Voldemort's gaze snapped to the unconscious man. He growled. "Wake him and let him know that if he ever attacks me again, I will kill him."

"But it was the Imperius Cu – "

"I expect all of you to be able to resist that curse," snarled Voldemort. "If any of you cannot, you'd better learn quickly. Harry, let's go."

* * *

"So…say it again," Sirius was still struggling to understand the why of it all. "This still makes no sense to me."

Harry sighed, scowling when Healer Benjamin prodded his ribs too hard. "We were…letting off some steam for the most part. Voldemort and I have our issues at times, but we are really similar. The duel was his way of apologizing for er…murdering my mum and dad."

Voldemort was sitting on a bed with his shirt off, his collar bone on the mend. He looked over at the two of them, but said nothing.

"How does that make up for anything?" Sirius stuttered in outrage. "Harry, I don't think you get it – "

"I do," Harry insisted, sighing. They were going here again, huh? Harry had received a letter from Sirius this week and it still seemed as if his godfather did not understand. "I do get it. I just never knew them and I'm trying to make the best of my current situation. I can only imagine how much more it hurts you though. But hey…I broke his collar bone for you, right? That's got to count for something."

Harry finished his sentence with a feeble little laugh, but Sirius still looked appalled. That was when Voldemort spoke up.

"I never had anything against Lily and James Potter," Voldemort muttered quietly. His eyes were still focused on the wall. "Fate simply pitted us against each other. No one will win that fight against me, Mr. Black. I did not drag their deaths out and I made them as painless as possible."

"And you think that makes up for it, eh?" Sirius barked. "No big deal, I'll just murder –"

"No," Voldemort cut him off forcefully, throwing a nasty glare at the man. "But it displays who I am far better than what most know about me. What do you know about me, Black? That I murder for fun? No…it's not fun. But in war, it is necessary. I have no problems doing it. All of that is moot, however. Would you like something in compensation, Mr. Black?"

Sirius puffed up in anger and Harry put a hand warningly on his godfather's shoulder. Sirius ignored it. "There's nothing you could offer me that would redeem murdering two of my very best fr – "

"How about Peter Pettigrew?"

Sirius fell silent. His grey eyes chilled. "Tell me about Peter. How did he betray us? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Voldemort admitted. One of my Death Eaters notified me that summer years ago that they had been approached by an Order member. It was Peter Pettigrew; he wanted to join the winning side, or so he claimed. I took advantage, of course – how could I not? War is war."

Voldemort stood at last, clutching his discarded shirt as he shooed away the Healer. "Pettigrew got lucky. He struck gold. That was the only reason I took him in. Do you think I enjoy having such weaklings in my ranks?"

The disgusted expression on Voldemort's face suddenly morphed; it was an expression that betrayed no emotions, but just a little bit of mischief.

"Were you aware that Peter Pettigrew was here tonight, Mr. Black? I can call him at any moment. I'll hand him over to you, if you desire. All I ask for in return is a chance."

Sirius was breathing slowly, Harry observed, but his breaths were very forceful. "A chance?"

Voldemort shrugged loftily. "A chance to talk without all the emotions thrown in. A chance to learn what my cause is really about. Harry is already on my side, but I must admit that having a talented man like you with us would prove monumental."

"No," Sirius breathed. "Never."

"Not even for Pettigrew?" Voldemort murmured dubiously, clicking his tongue. "The Wizarding World cast you aside without a thought and you still will not allow me a chance? Such a shame. Follow me, Harry; we have more work to do."

Harry got up, then, and looked at his godfather sadly. Sirius melted, holding out a hand and beckoning for a hug. Harry gladly returned it, one-armed.

"Love you, kid," Sirius muttered gruffly.

"You too," Harry sighed. He then turned around to follow Voldemort out of the door.

"Wait, Voldemort."

Voldemort stopped gracefully, turning on the spot as if he expected the interruption.

"Yes, Mr. Black?"

Harry turned his head to look over his shoulder. What he saw was Sirius standing, leaning on his cane in steely determination.

"…I'll think about it," said Sirius. Voldemort nodded.

"That's all I ask," The Dark Lord stated simply. "I wish you a most pleasant evening, Sirius Black."

Harry tossed his godfather a forced smile before leaving the infirmary. He stepped up alongside Voldemort pretty quickly.

"Thanks," Harry settled on saying. "I appreciate it."

Voldemort nodded. "Sirius Black could be of vital use to me, so long as he chooses it. That is partly why I am being patient with him – the other reason is you, of course."

"Right," Harry sighed. He was doing a lot of that tonight. Maybe he was sleepy? "You've done a lot to try to placate me lately and I just wanted to let you know I appreciate that as well. Saving Sirius, the duel tonight, all of it."

Voldemort dipped his chin once more. "Just remember it for the future," he said vaguely. "I trust you."

"Alright," responded Harry brightly. "So what's next?"

A dark chuckle answered him. "The real return is next, Harry. We cause chaos, tonight."

"What?" Harry asked blankly.

"We murder Muggles," Voldemort clarified with a demonic smile. "That'll grab some attention, eh?"

* * *

It all happened pretty quickly. Voldemort had briefly informed the remaining Death Eaters, including a somewhat loopy Travers – he _did_ hit that wall pretty hard, after all – of what was going to happen. It drew grins from the group that were downright malicious. Well, Harry reasoned, they _were_ going to be killing people…

Voldemort had scouted out a smaller Muggle town on the outskirts of London – Chelmsford, Harry thought it was called – and had found a place that was perfect for…announcing his presence to the Wizarding World.

It was a cove off the main road with only ten or so houses on the street. With a bit of stealth and a few wards, they would be in and out before the Ministry even knew anything was happening.

"Let's go," Voldemort finally said. "Go into the houses and bring the Muggles out into the street. Be smart about it. One Death Eater to a house. Harry, go with Severus. Bellatrix and I will handle the spell work necessary to make our night a success. You know the location."

"This is it," he smiled, arms wide. "Your return. Our return. My return. Let's enjoy ourselves. I shall see you all there."

And like that, he was gone. The rest of the Death Eaters popped away as well. Snape grabbed him by the arm without a word and instantly he felt the unpleasant pressure of Apparition.

Harry and Snape landed on the pavement and silence met them. The air was chilly for a night in July and the night was pitch black under a severely waning moon. Several dingy streetlights did their best to light up the cove, but the light only reached the cars in their narrow driveways.

The black figures moving about were the rest of the Death Eaters, then. It seemed they were picking their collective houses. Harry's spine shuddered involuntarily as magic rose up around them. He looked behind him and could not see the rest of the road. All he saw was Bellatrix's hair and Voldemort's eyes seeming to glow in the darkness.

"Oi! Severus!" A Death Eater shouted in a whisper. Harry could barely make out the man's face in the darkness, but it was Mulciber. "Take that house over there! You and Potter should make short work of them – just an old couple with a teenage kid."

Severus dipped his head slowly. "Very well. Come along, Harry."

Harry followed along, looking up to the house in front of him. It was small and quaint, two-storied and painted white. There was a red van in the driveway and it was as silent as the rest of the cove.

"I was…pleased to see the progress in your studies earlier," Snape murmured to him, stepping over the lip of the street and onto the driveway. "Of course, considering your continued lessons with the Headmaster, anything less than what you showed would have been a disappointment."

Harry looked at the man wryly, hopping onto the grass instead of the pavement. "Thank you, sir. I am happy that you approved."

Snape glanced at him briefly. "Your sarcasm needs work."

Harry snickered as Snape drew his wand and vanished the front door of the house. Harry could not hold back the smile that came to his face. Muggles had no chance against witches and wizards. It was really that easy.

"You will take the child," Snape told him. "And I shall collect the parents. Do not let the child scream. Remember, this is about stealth – "

"I've got it," Harry assured him. Snape looked at him dangerously.

"Do not interrupt," Harry's Head of House drawled warningly. "Muggles or not, serious situations such as this require your full attention. If you fail to give it such, you may find yourself in treacherous places."

"I'm not afraid of some teenage Muggle," Harry scoffed. "I grew up with them. They don't scare me; nothing does, really."

"Is that so? Would you not describe the emotions you feel towards the vision you had as _fear_, then?"

Harry blinked. "I-I beg your pardon?"

Snape turned, looking at him blankly before tapping his temple. "Occlumency, Potter. You ought to learn it."

"Woah," sputtered Harry, whispering as the two of them ascended the stairs. He remembered that word. Voldemort had talked about it once. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to…to read my mind! That was meant to be a secret!"

Snape raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "There are no secrets from a master of Legilimency. And of course I 'get to'…I am the former, after all. Around here, Potter, you trust no one. A clumsy Death Eater will not last long. Last door on the right. Go."

Snape turned then, vanishing the door to the master bedroom and leaving Harry agape at the stairs' landing. Unbelievable.

He walked down the hall before reaching a door with a football kit painted on it. The red and yellow colors of it shone like a light in the hallway. Harry grimaced and stepped inside, throwing up a silencing spell.

"Oi! Wake up, mate!"

Harry shouted and flipped the light switch and the boy thrashed before squinting at the overhead light. The boy blinked stupidly for a moment.

"Who're you?" The kid asked suspiciously. He seemed frozen; if Harry had been in the kid's situation, he would have already been out of bed with a weapon in hand.

Harry grinned lazily. "I'm Harry," he said, poking himself in the chest. "And I'm here to get you to come outside."

"Why, though?"

"Well, your parents are out there, for starters," Harry informed him, twirling his wand in his hand. "And you'll be coming with me one way or the other, so…"

Harry gave the Muggle a spectacularly over exaggerated shrug, but the boy's eyes were focused on his hand.

"What is that?" The blond headed boy asked. Harry smirked.

"You ask too many questions," said Harry. "Here, up you get."

"What do you – WOAH! WOAH! I DON'T LIKE THIS! PUT ME DOWN!"

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully. He threw a silencer at the boy before walking out the door.

"Mind your head on the -"

THUMP.

"…Never mind."

The boy thrashed in the spell Harry had him in, but it was in vain. Harry walked out of the house to see several dozen Muggles, all in nightclothes, kneeling in front of the Death Eaters. Harry watched as Crouch Jr. kicked one of them; the others laughed.

"No trouble?" Lucius questioned him lightly as he approached. Harry shook his head, lifting the Muggle child into the group with a flick of his wrist.

"Give me _some_ credit, Lucius," Harry murmured. "No fun with the Muggles for you, eh?"

Lucius sniffed. "There's no sport in it. I might as well be kicking a doorframe for all the fight they'd put up."

"Quite the beauty isn't she, My Lord," Dolohov cackled to Voldemort. He was holding a young woman by the hair. The lady was in tears and was sporting a swollen lip.

Voldemort nodded slowly. "She is indeed. How are you tonight, my dear?"

"Answer him, bitch!" Dolohov growled, wrenching her hair back. The lady screamed.

"F-fine," She sobbed. "What are you going to do to us?"

Dolohov looked around, grinning as he ignored her question. "You see? All you have to do is answer. We're nice people, really." His grin turned sinister, however in mere moments. "My Lord, would you mind if I…hell, who am I kidding? I want to fuck her. You mind, My Lord?"

Voldemort raised his eyebrows as the woman screamed again, pleading incessantly. "Is that how we treat our guests, Dolohov? By raping them?"

The woman's pleading ceased; she looked up at Voldemort, hope shining in her teary eyes. Voldemort's lips tugged upwards as he mimed thinking something over.

"However…you _were_ in Azkaban for an awfully long time. It must have been lonely, there," Voldemort nodded graciously to Dolohov. "…Be my guest, friend; take your pleasure from the woman if it suits you."

"NO! YOU MONSTERS! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"_Crucio_."

The Muggle man who had had the audacity to lash out now thrashed around on the pavement, screaming himself hoarse as his skin scratched along the rough surface. Voldemort lifted the spell as the other Muggles looked on in terror.

"Dolohov?"

"Yes, My Lord?"

Voldemort pointed at his Death Eater. "Make sure you're the proper gentleman with your lovely lady, hmm? We have a reputation to uphold. And take her husband with you; it's only proper, after all, to allow him to watch."

Dolohov's eyes glazed over and a lazy smile tugged at his lips. "I would never do anything to besmirch our reputation, My Lord. Get up, lad! Let's go fuck your wife, alright? Is she any good?"

The three of them skirted off to the shadows and that was the last Harry wanted to think on it.

Harry tossed the kid on the ground, shaking his head at Voldemort. "Pretty brutal, there." Voldemort laughed quietly.

"They'll all die in moments, anyway," Voldemort whispered to him. "Besides, my Death Eaters from Azkaban deserve their reward. If Dolohov desires the Muggle girl, he can certainly have her."

Harry could not really argue with that. "So what's next?" He settled on saying. Voldemort looked over his head back at the Muggles in the street, being harassed by the other Death Eaters.

"Lucius, Rookwood, and Severus have never really had the taste for torture," the Dark Lord said. "But I'll have each of them kill at least one Muggle. They all must get acquainted with death again. It will be necessary in this war. You'll kill the boy you brought."

Harry paused. "Er…okay."

Voldemort raised a brow. "You've killed before. Ronald Weasley was dead before I even threw a Killing Curse at him."

"No," Harry protested. "The thought doesn't bother me and I won't lose any sleep over it. I've just…the only people I've hurt in the past hurt me first, you know? This will take some getting used to."

"War is war," Voldemort said simply. Harry heard a scream, then, from over where Dolohov was at. Awkward.

"Go tell the others to kill the Muggles. We're done here," Voldemort said. "I have one final thing to do."

"And what is that?"

"You'll see. Go."

Harry shrugged as Voldemort started flicking his wand to and fro. He would do as he was told for now.

"Hey," Harry spoke up. "Voldemort said to kill this lot. He wants everyone to kill at least one Muggle, though."

"Done!" Bellatrix laughed loudly, firing a Killing Curse at the nearest Muggle and the woman slumped over immediately, like a puppet with its strings cut. The boy Harry brought out howled.

"No! Mum! MUM!"

The blonde headed boy crawled to her and Harry watched impassively. "You are all evil! Demons! Witches!"

"We're not witches," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. He pointed to Bellatrix. "She is, though."

The boy tried to get to his feet, roaring in rage, but Harry shot that down quickly with a Cruciatus of his own. It pissed him off; who was this child to try to attack him? He had no power: Harry did! It was like the orphanage all over again and bile rose into his throat. When the boy had finished sobbing, Harry kneeled in front of him.

"Your name's Charlie, right?" Harry spoke quietly, staring down at the boy. "I saw it on your door on the way in. Well, Charlie, I once met a man with the very same name. And he hurt me, Charlie. I needed that man and he turned his back on me. I grew up in an orphanage and was tortured on a daily basis by you lot: Muggles. And ordinary, uninteresting children like yourself tried to hurt me. And Charlie was a Muggle just like you. I opened my heart to him and he threw me aside. Does it make me evil to hate you all, Charlie? That's certainly not the entire story, Charlie, and I'm not really in the mood to discuss it. But here's the thing: in a few seconds, I am going to kill you...and I will feel nothing. Does that make me evil? Well...if I'm evil…your lot made me this way."

Harry looked into the boy's eyes, the eyes of someone his own age, and readied his wand with the Killing Curse on his lips.

And he faltered. Harry scowled. That fucking vision was still too fresh and he'd never cast the bloody thing before.

"Get on with it, Potter," Crouch Jr. muttered gruffly. "I'll kill the father next."

Harry looked up at Crouch, still squatting before the boy. Fine. He'd kill the kid some other way.

"_Sectumsempra_."

Harry slashed his wand sideways, watching as the boy's eyes rolled back and his head slipped from his shoulders. He stood then, brushing off his robe.

"Where did you learn that spell?"

Snape did not sound too pleased. Harry avoided his eyes.

"There's a lot to be learned as long as you know where to look," Harry settled on saying.

Dolohov returned, two dead Muggles in tow and his fly down. Harry had politely averted his eyes. Soon, the whole cove was ablaze in fire. The Death Eaters all popped away, one by one, until only Voldemort and Harry remained.

The bodies of the Muggles were all stacked into a pile in the middle of the cove. The houses were all ablaze in Fiendfyre. A Dark Mark hung over each house – Voldemort had shown him how to cast it – and Harry was simply waiting on Voldemort's final touch.

"There. Watch closely."

Harry did watch as flames gathered from the houses, soaring through the air to Voldemort's feet. The Dark Lord had been doing some spell work on the ground and now the flames moved right to where he had been working.

The flames moved, alive with an energy that normal fire did not have. And they began forming words. Voldemort chuckled darkly, raising his wand to the sky and the Fiendfyre followed.

What was left was the finishing touch for the Aurors to find. Sitting about the little cove in Chelmsford, above the Dark Marks and the houses all in flames was a simple message:

"_I have returned. Run_."

War was no longer coming; war was here.

* * *

**There, Was that satisfying? I hope so. **

**This chapter serves as the end of this little plot for now. What do you think comes next? You can leave me a review saying just that, did you know?**

**Just sayin'. **

**Brigade**


	7. Dealing with Stupidity

**FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU...**

**Okay...Hi, guys. This chapter sucked to write. I just could not get it to flow correctly. I scraped all the progress I had made on it twice. The people who follow the story on Twitter (at BrigadeEitD) will understand.**

**The previous chapter kinda finished that part of the story, you know? There are a few things that need to be tied up, but the first six chapters were pretty much a launching pad for the rest of the story. This hellish chapter was the foundation for everything coming later and it just. wouldn't. FUCKING...ugh. Whatever. It's done, now.**

**So...you know. Enjoy it. I think it turned out pretty well, all things considered. **

* * *

**Chapter 7: Dealing with Stupidity**

You know…lemon drops were not all that bad.

They were sour, sure, but Harry could appreciate a bit of sourness. A little bite to something never hurt anyone; besides, there was more than enough sugar in the small yellow candies to make up for the tang. The sweetness of the candy meshed well with the sour, mingling into a thoroughly enjoyable palate experience.

And that conclusion could be made without even considering the texture, mind you. The little bumps on the candy scraped soothingly along Harry's tongue. He almost shivered as the candy rolled to the back of his mouth – for some reason, it was even more sour there. The little ridges on the candy slowly melted away, leaving behind a smooth, perfectly spherical ball of tastiness.

At last, Harry cracked the little thing with his back molars. His mouth produced a bit more saliva, mellowing out the sudden tartness of the sweet. The lemon drop swiftly dissolved after that, and Harry happily swallowed the remnants of the treat with a silent sigh.

Hmm…he ought to have another. Harry reached out his hand until it hovered over the bowl containing the sweets…that was, until…

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" He looked up. Staring at him was…just about everyone: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Remus, the Aurors that Dumbledore had invited, the Weasleys, and all the rest of the nameless faces that Harry had just met for the first time tonight.

"Auror Shacklebolt was in the process of finishing his report," Dumbledore said, smiling at Harry's expression that lacked all enthusiasm. "He asked both you and Professor Snape a question. Would you mind repeating yourself, Kingsley?"

"Not at all, Albus," Shacklebolt intoned and Harry rolled his eyes. "Harry, have you heard anything from your classmates regarding the movements of Lord Voldemort? Have they spoken of their parents, perhaps?"

It took a monumental effort on Harry's part not to laugh as many in the room took in sharp breaths. Seriously, being scared of a name? It was hilarious. This was supposed to be the _mighty_ Order of the Phoenix, after all.

Harry knew what the Order was long before Dumbledore had sat him down to explain it all. Voldemort had told him – the Order of the Phoenix was Dumbledore's not-Ministry-sanctioned resistance group. And what they were resisting was what the entire Wizarding World had been talking about for the past month: the supposed return of Voldemort.

No one knew what was going on, exactly, but the "return" was all anyone was talking about. There had been three attacks on Muggles so far – Harry had only participated in the first one, however – and each held the same foreboding message. _Run_.

Minister Fudge was wrought with fright. Since the first attack nearly a month ago, the Minister of Magic had been in the unenviable position to answer questions that had no solutions. Is he really back? Is You-Know-Who _really_ back? What is the Ministry going to do about it? How are you going to protect your people?

Fudge was flustered. Harry knew that the man had a hard time believing that Voldemort had returned. The two had spoken about it, actually, and Harry was clever; he soothingly told the Minister that the chances that Voldemort was back were very, very slim. Still…it would not hurt to bolster the Ministry's security a bit, right? There was someone – _someones_ \- out there killing Muggles, after all. Hire a few more Aurors. It'll make everyone feel a bit safer.

Harry's words worked two-fold. Firstly, they had placated the Minister and given him a false sense of bravado. Fudge was doing something! He would prove himself as a strong Minister of Magic!

…Harry's words also made the man further doubt Voldemort's return. And a few measly Aurors would do nothing to prepare them all for what was to come.

Headmaster Dumbledore had praised Harry on the advice, as well. Though the elder wizard frowned upon Harry's involvement with the Minister, he admitted that Harry's advice had been sly. The approach that Dumbledore had taken with the Minister – brutal honesty – had not worked. Harry's approach, however, had.

Professor Dumbledore had been the only one to take "Voldemort's return" as the true threat that it was. The Headmaster had come for Harry the morning after and explained to him what had happened; that night, Voldemort had finally struck, killing dozens of Muggles. Harry, horrified, had asked him what was next.

And here it was: the Order of the Phoenix was meeting within Dumbledore's office and Harry was seeing a lot of new faces, including that of the Auror who had asked him a question.

Shacklebolt seemed like a nice enough guy. The man was a bigger bloke and strongly-set. The golden loop earring gave the man a bit of a unique look, but his calm demeanor had a way of putting everyone at ease.

Harry shook his head slowly, looking to Auror Shacklebolt. "No, sir. The Slytherins have all been pretty quiet lately. The Common Room is a different place than it used to be. The kids still play games and stuff, but as soon as politics comes up…" Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe it's me. They all know who I am, after all. No one is willing to speak to me about it."

All of that was true; it was only the first week of school, but no one spoke of what was happening outside of Hogwarts' walls.

"I must admit that I am surprised that the students have not reacted more strongly against you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall peered at him. "You were the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, after all. I would have assumed that the battle lines would be clearer."

Snape, across the table from Harry, scoffed mightily. "Minerva, Slytherin house is anything but clear. Mr. Potter has handled the situation passably so far. If my house has decided on silence, only a fool would break it."

"But there is information to be had, there," Arthur Weasley argued. Harry withheld a sigh. "If Harry could just – "

"Just what?" Harry asked in exasperation, raising his eyebrows. "'Hey, guys. Do any of you know anything about Voldemort? What's he doing, nowadays? Oh, and would you mind letting me know if your parents are Death Eaters? That'd be great, thanks.'"

Arthur Weasley flushed. It served him right; who was he to use Harry's first name? "Of course it wouldn't be that simple, but if you were more…er, sneaky than that – "

"Such a course of action would take time, Mr. Weasley," Snape butted in. "Which offers us nothing for the time being."

Arthur Weasley's ears and cheeks were an even darker shade of red than his hair. Still, he tried once more: "You are friends with the Malfoy boy, aren't you, Harry? If he's anything like his father, I'm sure he'd be the type to brag about it all."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "The things that Draco and I talk about are more along the lines of what's for dinner and what Daphne Greengrass' breasts feel like – "

"Mr. Potter! That is _not_ appropriate - "

"And besides," Harry grinned at McGonagall's exclamation. Remus leant back in his chair next to a pink-haired girl and had his palm slapped across his face. He rolled his eyes comically. Harry winked. "I live with all the Malfoys. If there was anything to be heard, it would probably be from Mr. Malfoy. But he's been his usual self, as far as I could tell you. No crazy rituals, no Dark Marks…he's been there for every meal."

"I notice that homework was not included in your list of…extracurricular conversations, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape snidely said with dry amusement. Harry shrugged.

"Perhaps if your homework were a challenge," Harry suggested with a teasing leer.

Snape looked unimpressed. "Indeed. Nevertheless, your question has been answered, Auror Shacklebolt."

Shacklebolt nodded slowly and an uncertain and completely awkward silence filled the office.

"Bah, that's enough of that rot," Alastor Moody snarled. The old Auror looked as battle-worn as it was possible to look: no eye, half a nose, scars littering his forearms and face. Harry almost pitied the man. "The little brats aren't going to have any vital information. The fact that we haven't been able to track Voldemort down to stop these attacks is alarming. We need real information…You aren't holding out on us, are you, Snape?"

Snape sneered. "I'm offended that you would even entertain the thought, Moody. I suppose a small dose of suspicion it to be commended, however; I daresay you'd like to save the last half of your face."

"I've put more of your kind in Azkaban than the rest of the Ministry combined," Growled Moody. "Don't think I couldn't put you down, _boy_."

Snape gave the man his most hateful sneer, but Dumbledore interrupted before he could retort.

"I believe that is all the time we have this evening," Dumbledore surmised quickly. "Kingsley, please keep your ear to the ground – you've done an excellent job so far. Arthur, Nymphadora – "

"It's Tonks," The pink-haired witch next to Remus muttered hotly.

"Of course," Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "Each of you – Hestia as well – continue searching for potential members throughout the Ministry. Hopefully, we can reach each of the Departments before Lord Voldemort truly moves towards conquest. Have a lovely evening, everyone. Severus, may I speak to you for a moment?"

Harry watched as Severus scowled, but moved toward the back of Dumbledore's office to speak in private. Harry himself rose as well.

"You certainly make things entertaining, Harry."

Harry turned and smiled as Remus patted him on the back. "I do my best…Professor."

He said the last bit with an amused drawl. Remus waved his hand flippantly.

"Just Remus, when we're out of class," His Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor said. "You're just like your father, you know - between the two of you, poor Minerva is due a heart attack any day now."

Harry laughed, ignoring that weird something that fluttered within him every time someone mentioned his parent. "She needs to loosen up. She's a teacher at a school for teenagers, and petting gets her all stuffy? Please."

"Speaking of," Remus leaned in conspiratorially. "Do I need to give you the talk? All the bits and pieces _can_ be a bit confusing, you know."

Remus was teasing him, of course, but there was an underlying seriousness to it all that Harry appreciated.

"I think I've got it all figured out, thanks," Harry smiled broadly. "But I'll be sure to take it up with you if I have any questions."

"Good lad," said Remus, patting him once more. "You need to get to your common room – curfew is in fifteen minutes. I'll take you down there – oh! Let me say goodnight to Tonks real quick. Hey, Tonks!"

Harry watched bemusedly as the werewolf bid Moody's apprentice goodbye and soon enough the two of them were walking down a set of stairs that made up the Great Staircase, chatting about nothing in particular. The castle was as quiet as it ever got at the moment – Peeves could be heard cackling his way through an upper floor of the castle – but all in all, it was pretty peaceful.

"So how's being a teacher working out for you?" Asked Harry. He had only had one lesson with Remus, but God…it had been so much better than that Lockhart idiot from last year. If only Lockhart had known how close Harry had been to blasting him out a window…

Remus smiled slightly. "It's the best job that I've ever had, that's for sure. Especially considering…well – "

"Considering how…overqualified you were," Harry supplied. Remus winked.

"A good way of putting it, yes. I'm having a blast, though - I've already figured out the key to it, as well."

"Oh?"

Remus smirked playfully. "Practical lessons. No written homework means no long nights grading assignments. Besides, if there were ever a class that should be focused on its practical uses –"

"It'd be Defense," Harry finished for him. "That's brilliant. I can't reckon grading is all that much fun."

Remus shrugged. "It's necessary…but not worth overworking myself for. There'll be written work, but not nearly as often as any of the other classes."

Thank God for Royce. Man, had he mellowed out Remus.

"So when does Quidditch practice start?" Remus asked suddenly. Harry blinked.

"Er…not sure, actually," He admitted. "Margaret has the badge this year. I'll have to ask her about that."

Remus smiled and a silence settled between them. Harry's gaze flicked to the double doors of the Great Hall for a moment. There were few things in life that Harry truly cherished, but one of them was the people who genuinely liked him and wanted to be around him. There were not many people like that, but Remus was one of the few.

And Harry felt guilty.

It was not his fault, of course. There was nothing he could really do about it. Remus was finally…_finally_ getting his life fully together. It had taken some prodding, both from Royce Beeler and himself, but Remus was on his feet for the first time since _that_ night. He had moved on.

…Except Sirius was innocent, and Harry was hiding that fact from him. Remus' peace would be short-lived. War was on the horizon and Remus would experience that unpleasantness, regardless of anything Harry did one way or the other.

Sirius was already dealing with the unpleasantness, in fact. Harry's godfather was still hobbling around on that cane, holed up at Voldemort's manor. Sirius viewed the place as just another prison.

It made Harry want to scrub his face; difficult decisions were on the way. For everyone.

Was he supposed to tell Remus about Sirius? If so, how was he to do it without incriminating himself? How could he do it without incriminating Sirius, for that matter? It just was not _possible_. But Remus deserved to know.

"Here we are. I will see you in class tomorrow, Harry."

Harry blinked. Remus was smiling at him, holding out a hand. Harry knocked it aside with a laugh, wrapping an arm briefly around Remus' midsection.

"Too formal," Harry muttered. Remus chortled, but readily returned the hug. "Night, Remus. _Sic vis pax, para bellum_."

The wall to the Slytherin common room opened slowly, revealing a path into the common room. Harry looked back to see Remus giving him an odd look.

"Awfully morbid, there, hmm?"

Harry could only shrug. "It's part of the charm, I suppose."

Remus dipped his head at that, echoing Harry's statement. "I suppose it is, then. Goodnight, Harry."

And with that, Remus shuffled down the hall. Harry could only watch in bemusement.

"Harry! Finally, mate! We've been so _bored_."

Harry smiled; over in the corner of the common room were all the third years, lounging on the black leather couches. Draco had his legs crossed and was reading from a piece of parchment, Parkinson was writing something, Crabbe and Goyle were…sitting there, and Blaise was waving to him like an idiot.

"Bored, eh?" Harry asked. "What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Anything," Blaise muttered, throwing a dark look at Draco. "Mr. Grouchy doesn't feel much like talking and Theo went to bed early. It's just been me and Daphne."

Harry frowned. "Theo went to bed early? Again?" Theo had been doing that ever since the term started. Blaise nodded sadly.

"He's leaving us to hang, mate. It sucks."

It was puzzling. Harry would have to talk to Theo. Not only was the boy going to bed too early, he had also been just a bit…off, recently. Something was up. If only –

"Hi, Harry."

Harry nearly jumped. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that Daphne had spooked him. She had her arms draped over the back of the couch, smiling at him.

Harry smirked, plopping himself next to her. "Hey."

Across from him, Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. It made Harry want to laugh.

"…So what did Dumbledore want?" Draco asked finally. His tone made it clear, however, that he did not really care.

Harry frowned once more. "The usual. Wanted to talk about the Dark Lord."

Draco raised his eyebrow. Lucius had sat them both down right before the semester to explain his involvement with Lord Voldemort. Draco had been shocked, of course, that the Dark Lord had returned. Harry feigned shock for his friend's sake. Draco still did not know of Harry's own role with Voldemort.

Harry would have to fix that soon, as well. That would be a _fun_ conversation…

"So he's really back, then? The Dark Lord?" Daphne asked him softly. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yep. Dumbledore's concerned, too. So is the Minister, for that matter. Neither of them know what to do."

"And what are _you_ going to do, Potter?"

Harry looked up. A fifth year was looking over, a partial sneer on his face.

"About what, Knight?"

It was amazing how quickly the buzz in the common room could die down in mere seconds. Daphne put her hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry merely looked at the older boy.

Knight shrugged dismissively. "The Dark Lord will not have forgotten about you, Potter. You caused him to go away, and now you're sullying yourself by hanging around Dumbledore. It's not smart, what you're doing."

Not smart? Harry gave the boy an incredulous look, wagging a finger. "On the contrary; it's the smartest move I've got right now. Have I done anything against the Dark Lord? No, but I'm learning things firsthand from Dumbledore. And if the Dark Lord wants to talk…I'm not hard to find."

"So you'd be willing to listen to the Dark Lord? You? _Harry Potter_? Please." The boy sounded snide and skeptical. Harry did not like it at all.

"Let me put it this way, Knight – the only thing you can expect from me is that I'm open to anything so long as it benefits me," Harry argued hotly. "My life comes first, but my friends are a close second. I'm not planning to go against the bloke. How batty do you think I am? How stupid would I be to oppose the most powerful wizard alive? I'm only thirteen, Knight, and I'm certainly not that foolish. And I'm going to my dorm – there's only so much stupid I can stand in one night."

Harry stood, glaring at the boy before heading off to bed. Blaise moaned aloud as Harry left and Draco gave him an interesting look, but he was livid. Knight did not know who he was pissing off; he was provoking someone who was capable of revenge. Capable of murder. Idiot.

Harry threw open the door to his dorm before remembering that Theo was asleep. The door banged loudly and Harry cringed for a second.

"…Sorry, Theo," Muttered Harry. "I was angry and wasn't thinking."

Harry padded over to his own bed, sitting down to pick up the book sitting on his nightstand. _Mastery of the Mind: A Guide to the Unseen Magicks_. Harry had ordered the book from Flourish and Blotts; it was about time he did something about that small detail of Occlumency.

"Our house is insane, Theo. Absolutely bonkers…Theo?"

Harry looked towards the drawn curtains of Theo's bed. Theo did not reply. Harry cocked his head. Theo _had_ to be awake. He had slammed that door so loud that he had almost scared himself.

"Theo? You awake, mate?"

Harry got up and inched closer to the four-poster. If he listened really closely…was –what was that? It sounded like moaning. Groaning.

"Theo – "

Harry reached out his hand to the curtain but before it could grasp the cloth, his hand was shrouded in darkness. What the –

Oh. It was his ring. Harry shivered as the blackness crept up his shoulder, licking at his ear:

"_I require your presence, Harry. Come to the manor_."

Harry blinked rapidly. That…was not possible. Or at least he thought so. How was he supposed to get to the manor when he was at Hogwarts? He could not Apparate from the school.

Perhaps Voldemort had taken care of it when he made the ring? He certainly was not the type to forget about things like that.

But Theo –

"Theo, I've got to go, mate, but I'll be back soon," Harry called out. "And then we're going to talk. See you in a bit."

Harry closed his eyes, just as he had the last time he used the ring, and he felt his blood pulse in his veins. It felt warm and fluid and suddenly, Harry stood right where he was supposed to be: right at the doorstep of Voldemort's personal mansion.

Slowly, the double doors of the castle opened. Harry walked inside, where no one greeted him. Perhaps Voldemort was in the throne room?

"_Gather your godfather Sirius Black and meet me in the throne room, would you, Harry? We have a small matter to attend to_."

The voice startled him as it echoed of the pillars in the welcoming hall. Harry frowned. It was Voldemort's voice, alright, and he sounded at ease. What could he possibly need Sirius for?

Oh well...at least he would get the chance to go talk to Sirius. Harry trudged up the stairs and down the hall to Sirius' new room. He had finally gotten out of the makeshift hospital wing of the castle.

"Sirius? It's me!" Harry knocked a few times. Harry heard the faint sounds of scuffling and of Sirius swearing before his godfather huffed out: "The door's unlocked! Come in!"

Harry opened it slowly, peeking his head in before grinning. Sirius had knocked over his drink and was attempting to use his cane to reach down and clean it up.

"Don't worry about it, Sirius. I've got it. _Evanesco_."

The liquid – tea, Harry thought – vanished, leaving the rug as clean as it had been moments before. Sirius dropped the towel in his hand with a sigh, pushing himself back up with the help of his cane.

Harry eyed the man for a moment; Sirius _looked_ much better. There was a healthy color to his skin and much more meat on his bones. Sirius' hair was clean and held some shine to it, falling to his shoulders in wispy swirls. There were bags under his eyes, but not nearly as severe as they had once been.

And yet, Sirius growled as his arm trembled, his leg barely taking his weight. Frustration was plain on his face as sighed more heatedly.

"Hey, Harry," He said. "What are you doing here? I thought you were back at school."

Harry nodded, "I am, but I was told to come here. You'll never believe who our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is."

Sirius cocked his head to the side. They were both standing awkwardly in Sirius' living area, but what did it matter? "I'm pants at guessing games. Who?"

"Professor R.J. Lupin," Drawled Harry. Sirius laughed incredulously.

"You're kidding!" Sirius remarked. "Oh, wait. Let me guess. He has you poor sods _read_."

Harry shook his head, beaming. "No, actually. He likes to do practical stuff. He's brill, Sirius. I was talking to him just before I got here, as well. He's happy."

Sirius' smile grew slightly pained at that. "That's good. That's…good."

Harry frowned. "You're not happy here at all, are you?"

"No," Sirius shook his head. "It was fine whilst I was recovering, but it's Voldemort's place, you know? I'm not comfortable here. I…I'm not one of them."

Sirius looked conflicted.

"He talked to you, didn't he?"

Sirius chuckled darkly. "Yeah. Yeah he did. And he speaks way too well. He knows everything to say that will hurt. He's great at cutting to the core of a person and it's disturbing. How can you trust him?"

Sirius asked the question in something similar to outrage. Harry could only shrug.

"By being very careful," Harry admitted. "I trust maybe half of the stuff that comes out of Voldemort's mouth. I'm not like his other Death Eaters, Sirius. We…we are very similar. And this is difficult to say, but we want the same things – "

"You want to kill _innocent_ people?" Sirius cried. Harry stalled.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Muggles!"

"Oh," Harry blinked. He shrugged weakly. "...They aren't innocent, Sirius. Have you ever seen what they've done? Their wars dwarf ours in terms of destruction. They kill each other every single day and much more effectively than Voldemort has ever done, I'll have you know. Until just a few years ago, the Soviet Union and America were at each other's throats – "

"Wait, that ended?!"

"Yeah," Harry said sadly. "While you were in Azkaban. The Soviet Union is gone."

Sirius looked absolutely dejected. "Ten years of my life – gone. I can't walk, I can't run, my best friends are either dead or believe me to be a traitor and a murderer…is this a life worth living, Harry?"

"Yes! We'll…we'll think of something, Sirius," Harry was alarmed. "It's not just you, either. My life has been bollocks as well, but life isn't easy. But if we're working together, we can make things better. You just can't give in, Sirius. You _can't_."

It hurt him. It pained Harry to see someone so close to him unhappy. Especially…

Especially when there was something he could do about it.

"Look…Voldemort sent me up here to get you. He said there was business to take care of," Harry waved his hand flippantly. None of that really mattered at the moment. "But Sirius, I'm going to make this all better, alright? I promise. Just trust me, okay?"

Sirius limped forward, pressing down on his can with his left hand before reaching out and hugging him.

"You shouldn't have to deal with all of this – Voldemort, a crippled godfather," Sirius muttered gruffly. "You're right, though. We'll figure it out. Love you, kid."

Harry sighed. "You too."

Harry helped Sirius down the stairs – Sirius held on tightly to his forearm with one hand and his cane with the other – and they made their way to the throne room.

And suddenly, everything changed.

They stepped inside and Harry could see Voldemort sitting imperiously upon his throne. That was…well, it was as normal as seeing someone sitting on a throne could be, but what was interesting was the huddling mess at the base of the throne.

The two of them moved closer and Harry got a better view of the lump. It was a man in a brown robe on his knees, cowering and whimpering with his forehead tucked to the marble floor. The sharp inhale of breath beside him, however, told him something else.

"Peter," Whispered Sirius, shocked. From above, Voldemort laughed softly.

"Good evening, Harry, Mr. Black," Voldemort smoothly said. "Peter, bid our guests welcome."

The man turned quickly, fear and surprise in his bulging eyes. Harry grimaced.

Peter was not a handsome man.

He was short, overweight, balding, and…twitchy. Harry eyed the man with distaste; Sirius was trembling beside him.

"I'll kill him. I'LL KILL HIM!"

"Sirius, no!"

Harry grabbed Sirius by the shoulders before his godfather could launch himself at the cowering man. Sirius did his best to shake free, but his leg gave way. Sirius fell to the ground, taking Harry with him.

"My, what an interesting reaction, Mr. – _Pettigrew, do not move_."

"But My Lord!"

"_Silence_!"

Harry watched as Voldemort stood, towering down on them all. Voldemort stepped down from his throne and silently held a hand out to Harry. He took it, allowing Voldemort to help him up before offering the same to his godfather. Sirius did not even look to Harry – his grey eyes were glued to Pettigrew, hatred bringing color into them.

"Now that we are all properly reacquainted," Voldemort smiled easily, looking between Sirius and Pettigrew with interest. "Would you like to know what Peter here has been doing since your arrest, Mr. Black? He has been posing as a family's pet rat."

Sirius' face twitched. "Can we skip this part? I'd like to kill him now."

"Oh you would, hmm?" Voldemort questioned. Harry could hear the enjoyment that the Dark Lord was getting out of the interaction. "Well, then. Harry, give your godfather your wand."

"What?"

"My Lord!"

"Go on," Voldemort urged him. The Dark Lord stepped behind Sirius, but his eyes were trained on Harry. Reluctantly, Harry did as he was told. Sirius grasped the wand, inhaling deeply. Sparks green as death itself shot out violently. He pointed it right at the blubbering Pettigrew.

"Finally…magic," Sirius breathed.

"Wait, Sirius; think about this before you do it," Harry protested, stepping in front of the wand. "Remember what we were just talking about – you do this and it's all over. There's no going back. If you kill him, you're on the run forever. You let him live…and you're free."

Sirius' eyes glazed over.

"He deserves it, you know," Voldemort whispered conspiratorially. "He wronged you. He wronged your friends. He has been the cause of it all – not me. Best of all…he's yours. I revoke all claims to him as his master. Do with him what you will, Sirius Black. Make him pay. Make him hurt."

Harry glared at Voldemort. "Sirius, if you spare him, we can take him to Minister Fudge. I've told you how much he likes to cater to me. We can work something out. They'd probably pay you and we can make sure Pettigrew pays another way. Don't do this to yourself."

"Step aside, Harry," Sirius growled.

Voldemort smirked. "It's time to make a decision, Black – "

"We can get you a wand again – "

"Enough," Snarled Sirius. "You're dead, Peter. I hope you rot in fucking hell."

"Sirius…my old friend, please," Whimpered Pettigrew. "You wouldn't do that to your friend, would you?"

"A friend? A friend wouldn't have sold Lily and James out to Voldemort, Peter! A friend would have died to protect their family! And a friend would avenge their deaths like I am going to do!"

"Think of Remus!"

Sirius' eyes shot to Harry for a long moment before snapping back to Pettigrew. Harry could have sworn he saw his godfather's eyes soften. Sirius snarled, though, and Harry had to shut his eyes. Light flickered through his eyelids, Voldemort laughed, and Harry limply hung his head.

* * *

Ruh roh. Next up: Sirius, Remus, Draco (maybe?), the Weasley twins (again, maybe?), and...Cedric. Good to see you again, Cedric.

Until then, fellas.

Brigade


	8. Private Discussions

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH. Finally.**

**This chapter sucked to write and it took me forever. Usually, the idea of a chapter forms in my head over a few days and then I sit down to outline it. After 5-10 hours of writing, it's done.**

**This one took like 20. And it took way longer to formulate in my head. Anyway...here it is. The story's starting to ramp up again.**

**Follow the story on Twitter at BrigadeEitD if you want more consistent updates. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Private Discussions**

"Harry, I'm sorry. I can't do this," The white knuckles on the desk in front of him told Harry everything he needed to know. "Do you realize what you're saying? Do you understand what this is going to do? I – I can't do what you want me to do! It will embarrass the entire Ministry! I'll be a laughingstock! I can't!"

Minister Fudge was speaking to Harry with wide, fearful eyes; Harry wanted to roll his own _so_ badly, but he refrained.

"It's not an issue of can and cannot, Minister Fudge," Harry replied wearily. "It's about doing the right thing."

Harry was getting tired of this. It had been nearly a half hour and Fudge was _still_ quivering in fright at the prospect of giving an innocent man his freedom.

Sirius had relented. He let Pettigrew live.

And now, upon the Minister's desk sat little Peter Pettigrew – in his despicable rat form, of course. The slimy traitor was captured in a jar, sealed shut with an Imperturbable Charm placed over it.

Voldemort had given Pettigrew over to Sirius, just as he had said he would. Harry still could not grasp _why_ Voldemort gave Pettigrew over to Sirius without asking for more in return. Harry certainly would have done it differently if he was in a similar position, but Harry certainly could not complain; Sirius was mere moments away from being free.

"Perhaps we could just…sweep it under the proverbial rug, eh, Harry?" Fudge chuckled nervously. "I'm sure Mr. Black is a nice guy and all, but the damage he could do to my Ministry – "

"No," Harry growled angrily, slamming his fist down on the desk before pointing an accusing finger at the flinching Minister. "This is an innocent man, Fudge, and more importantly, he is my godfather. He is in your secretary's office right now. There is no 'covering this up.' I won't let you do it. There are witnesses. Come _on_…you're smarter than that, aren't you?"

Harry watched contemptuously as Fudge unraveled at the seams. The man put his head on the desk…seriously, who _elected_ this fucking man?

"Look," Harry started softly, reaching out to rouse the man. Fudge lifted his head slightly to look over his arms at Harry. "What is it you're worried about? The public? They are only too easy to control. You just need to talk to some of your public relations people, write up a sympathetic speech, and you're good. What do you think people are going to do when they read an innocent man was put in Azkaban for a decade?"

"Blame those in power?" Fudge muttered miserably. Harry did his best not to slap the man.

"No," Harry replied with false patience. "They are going to sympathize with the man who spent time in Azkaban. 'Oh that poor soul – no one should have to go through that.'"

Fudge suddenly looked hopeful. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry beat him to it.

"…_Then_ they will blame those in charge."

Fudge groaned before slumping over. Harry swatted him on the arm.

"Don't you see the difference?" Asked Harry. "There is a huge difference between blaming you from the start and empathizing with an unfortunate person. They trust you, Fudge. They'll ask questions. The key is having the answers before they start asking."

Fudge looked puzzled. "And what would the answers be, Harry?"

Harry smiled grimly, standing up. "The answer is that you were not in charge when Sirius went to Azkaban, of course. What was the Minister's name before you?"

"Millicent Bagnold," Fudge answered automatically.

Harry waved his hand flippantly. "Yes, her. She was responsible, not you. How could you do anything?"

"Yes…I was in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the time," Fudge mused slowly. Harry felt inexplicable rage bubble up. If Fudge had worked in that department, he should be used to things like this!

"…So you're not at fault at all, really," Harry sighed. "Point that out. Don't bury the former Minister, of course, but make sure that it's clear that the Ministry is being as transparent as possible. No one wants to think that something like this could happen so treat it as though it would never happen again."

Fudge was standing now, pacing and smoothing out his crinkled robes. He turned, smiling brightly. "You make a very good point, Harry. You know, you really ought to pursue a career in politics – you have the mind for it. Getting you a spot in power wouldn't be hard at all, you know! I'm the Minister, after all…all it would take – "

"Minister, I appreciate the sentiment more than I could even try to say, but there is still something else to consider," Harry intervened. Stupid, _stupid_ Minister…

"And what would that be?"

Harry sighed again, rubbing his face with his left hand. "What are you going to do to compensate Sirius Black?"

Fudge blinked mightily. "I'm sorry?"

"He spent ten years in Azkaban," Harry pointed out, on the verge of exasperation. "This is the time if there ever was one to be charitable – what will you do to compensate Sirius Black? He's crippled, for Christ's sake!"

"H-he looked fine!" Blustered Fudge.

"He's using a cane!" Harry countered. "And he's my godfather! If you cheat him out, Minister, I _swear_…"

"Oh, I-I wouldn't do that, Harry!"

The shifty look in the man's eyes told everything Harry needed to know.

"This…this is going to be awful," Fudge groused.

Harry shrugged indifferently. "It happens. Dealing with it is your job, unfortunately." Harry wanted to sneer. Yeah…unfortunately.

Fudge shook his head sadly, sitting down and flipping through the parchment on his desk in a huff. Harry simply sat, enjoying the silence. After a short time, however, Fudge stilled with a small scrap of parchment in his hand.

"Wait," Fudge breathed. He shook the parchment a time or two. "Harry, how about we help each other out, here? Your godfather needs a bit of help, help that I can give him. And I need help…with _this_."

Fudge waggled the page in front of Harry's face. Harry snatched it with a small scowl. He read.

"T.E.B.W.?" Harry asked. "What's this rubbish?"

"It's not rubbish!" Fudge chirped. "It's the 'Tournament of European Battle Wizards! And it has an underage division!"

"So you want me to…what, win the tournament?" Harry asked. Fudge looked shocked.

"What? No, I just need you to participate! Goodness, I'd never ask you to win – some of these lads are really good," Fudge protested. Harry rolled his eyes, at last.

"Why do you need me to participate?" Harry muttered blankly.

"Magical Britain needs its hero, Harry. If you're in this tournament, how much easier will it be for the population to accept Mr. Black's reassembly into the population when his godson is out there playing hero?"

Oh, _god_. So there was a politician in the Minister, after all.

"…Alright," Harry conceded. "Suppose I go along with it. What will you do for Sirius?"

Fudge smiled. "I'll call in Rufus Scrimegour and Amelia Bones and we'll hash it all out. You and your friends stay put in the meantime, alright Harry?"

Harry stared. "I want a monetary reimbursement for Sirius, hear me? You do what you can and I'll not only participate in the tournament, I'll win it. Deal?"

Fudge frowned. "I don't really think that you – "

"Trust me. You know very little of what I can do. Do we have a deal?"

Fudge eyed him questioningly but Harry did not care; he stood in front of the Minister's desk, hand outstretched. It did not take Fudge long to make up his mind. He grinned, shaking Harry's hand.

"Deal," Fudge chirped. "Go wait outside – Scrimegour and Bones will need to question…the suspect. It will take a while, but I'll make sure to do everything for your godfather that I can. My secretary will get you whatever you need."

Harry put his hand to his side, surreptitiously wiping his hand of the Minister's clamminess, and smiled slightly. "Thanks, Minister – "

"Cornelius, Harry! Please!" Chortled Fudge. It seemed all was right in his head, now. "I've been telling that to you for months, now! We're friends, aren't we? Friends who will do whatever we can for the other."

Harry nodded, faking another smile. "Of course, Cornelius. Thanks again. I'm going to go check on my godfather, if you don't mind."

"Of course, my boy, of course!" Fudge shooed him playfully and Harry turned to leave; he felt the magic Fudge was casting behind him, though: "Rufus, Amelia, could you both come to my office, please? There is a matter of vital importance that has come to my attention…"

God…what an idiot.

Harry stepped out of the door and sighed heavily; it was like taking a breath of fresh air after being underwater. Stupidity was oppressive.

Harry was not getting too old to deal with other peoples' problems, but he was getting damn tired of doing it, that was for sure. It seemed as if he was always taking on something else to do when he had to play cleanup as well. A dueling tournament? Really?

Whatever.

"How did it go, Harry?"

He looked up, gracing Fudge's secretary with a soft smile. "We got it all figured out, Charlotte, thanks. Madam Bones and Head Auror Scrimegour should be on their way to meet with the Minister; Fudge will want you to let them in, I think."

"Alright, I'll be sure to see them in," Charlotte the secretary replied easily. She motioned to the side with her head, smiling. "Your two friends should still be seated in the lobby of the office."

"Okay."

Harry threw the young woman a fleeting smile before looking up to the ceiling in exasperation. It was not the first time he had had this thought, but Harry wondered why exactly Fudge had hired his secretary. Harry wanted to believe it was because of her secretarial skills. He _wanted_ to. But Charlotte was very young, attractive, and…busty.

Harry _really_ did not think much of Fudge.

He turned the corner into the lobby of the Department of the Minister. Harry ignored the two Aurors guarding the Minister's office in favor of looking around. Over to the right, in two chairs nestled into the corner sat Sirius and Remus. Remus had his arms draped across Sirius' shoulders and Sirius was slightly leaning into the other man. Harry's godfather had his own hands settled on his lap, fiddling with his cane. Remus whispered something into Sirius' ear and they both broke down, giggling fiercely.

Harry could only grin; the band was back together.

"Alright!" Harry clapped his hands, smiling broadly as both of the men jumped. "I'm done talking with Fudge; he's calling up the Aurors and Madam Bones to question Pettigrew. Fudge promised me that you'll be a free man by the end of the day, Sirius."

"Aha!" Remus clasped the back of Sirius' neck and shook him a bit. "Congrats, Pads!"

Sirius smiled a complicated smile before ducking his head again. "I almost can't believe it. I don't think I've been free since we were at school."

"Well, you will be soon," Harry informed him, pulling up a chair of his own. "No one has bothered you guys, I hope?"

Remus shook his head dismissively. "Ever since Shacklebolt brought us here, it has been fairly quiet. We've just been sitting here, catching up."

"Probably not the best way to say that, mate," Sirius muttered wryly.

Remus winced. "Well, you know what I mean."

"What do you want to do when you're free, Sirius?" Harry interrupted quickly. Sirius' eyes softened.

"I want a house," Sirius admitted, picking as his robe as it pooled in his lap. "Something cozy – you know what I mean, Remus. Something like what Lily and James had. Something with some land, away from the city…a-and…maybe –"

Sirius coughed weakly, looking up at the two of them with almost pleading eyes. "And maybe you two would…like to move in? I-you're my only family and I – I…"

Sirius looked down, shaking his head. Remus put his arm around him again and hugged him.

"I'd love to," Harry said and Sirius' head shot up. "I mean, it'll take some doing. I'll have to talk to the Malfoys – "

Harry frowned. Lucius and Narcissa would not mind – but Draco might. Lucius and Narcissa knew everything that was happening, though; they knew about Voldemort, they knew about Sirius…it would make sense to them.

Draco did not even know about Voldemort and Harry's own involvement with the Death Eaters. Harry really needed to talk to him…

"I'd like to move in as well," Remus murmured softly to Sirius. "I'll need to talk with my current roommate. When I'm at Hogwarts teaching, though, I'm barely around. But of course I want to move in with you, Padfoot – we've always been a team."

"Marauders?" Sirius shyly smiled.

Remus nodded emphatically. "Causing mischief until the day we die."

Harry watched them embrace and smiled at how strongly Sirius held onto his friend. This was good for him – it was easy to forget how much Azkaban had fucked his life up. The fact that Sirius was still whole – except for the unfortunate physical issues – was miraculous.

And he would have to start looking for a cure for Sirius' physical maladies.

"Marauders, huh?" Harry smirked playfully. "Cute name. What's that about?"

Sirius lifted his head up, ready to defend the name…but the door opened.

Harry looked over, then, as Head Auror Rufus Scrimegour stepped inside. The grizzled man's eyes swept around the room for a moment before snapping over to Sirius. The yellowish eyes narrowed and his beard twitched – a wand fell into the man's hand…

Harry stood swiftly, stepping into Scrimegour's line of sight.

"Leave him alone, sir," Harry called out. His own wand was in hand, as well. "This is what Minister Fudge wants to talk to you about, Auror Scrimegour; there is a new…witness in my godfather's case."

Scrimegour growled in this throat. "I was not aware that there was…even a case, Potter. The fact that Sirius Black sits inside the Ministry without Auror supervision is something that I must rectify."

"He's using a cane! It's not like he could fight you!" Harry protested. "Go talk to the Minister, sir. Please. Minister Fudge has all the details – "

"And what authority is he on the matters of public safety, Potter?" Questioned Scrimegour. "This is a law enforcement matter – one that should not concern him at all. I'll be the judge of – "

"Then go be the judge!" Harry cried. "The suspect is in the Minister's office!"

Scrimegour scowled harshly. Remus stood slowly, raising placating hands in the Head Auror's direction.

"Let's calm down a bit, hmm?" Remus murmured soothingly. "We're here simply to speak with the Minister. Auror Shacklebolt has taken care of the supervising. He brought us here, informed the two Aurors at the door of what was going on, and warded the room to protect the Ministry. Everything's been taken care of, so – "

"Shacklebolt went over my head, werewolf," Scrimegour growled. "Something that he did not have the authority to do. You must pardon me if it's my belief that wards and two trainee Aurors are not enough to protect the Ministry from a serial killer and a werewolf…"

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Harry shot back. He had watched as Remus' face paled. 'Werewolf' was not an insult. "I'm sick of you, Scrimegour. We needed to speak with the Minister in this particular situation. We went through the proper channels. And now you're angry because your ego can't take it. Sod off."

Harry watched in satisfaction as Scrimegour's eyes widened. It seemed that the Auror was in shock…which was fine, if you asked Harry. He was done faking pleasantries, anyway.

"Why…you little – "

"Gentlemen…is everything quite alright?"

Scrimegour turned swiftly and Harry looked over the man's shoulder – behind him stood Amelia Bones.

Madam Bones looked at them all, clearly unimpressed. Harry had to hide a grin.

"Just fine, ma'am," Harry nodded to the grey-haired woman. "The Head Auror and I were just…catching up. He wanted to wait for you before entering the Minister's office, you see."

"Ah," Madam Bones acknowledged sharply. "Terribly kind of you, Rufus. Shall we go, then?"

Scrimegour looked like he wanted to strangle someone. "Of course, Madam."

Harry watched them go. Remus heaved a strained sigh. Sirius was chuckling behind them.

"Not one to put up with stuff, eh, Harry?" Sirius chortled. Harry smirked.

"Not from him, that's for sure."

Remus sat down heavily between them.

"I'm too old for this," He muttered. Harry and Sirius laughed uproariously.

* * *

Remus led Harry to the Atrium a short time later. Word of Sirius' innocence had finally reached Dumbledore, it seemed; an owl from the Headmaster had flown into the lobby, landing on Remus' lap. Dumbledore expressed a desire to talk with Remus and asked for his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to bring Harry back to Hogwarts. They walked past the crowds of people without really taking notice of them – there was still a lot hanging in the air.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had come to stay with Sirius for a bit – whether for the Ministry or for the Order, Harry was not sure. Both the Head Auror and the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement were still in the Minister's office, though, sorting the mess out for Sirius.

Harry could only shake his head: everything was happening too fast to really get a good grasp on it all.

When Voldemort had let Sirius go with Pettigrew in his possession, he did so with certain guidelines. Obviously, Sirius was going to go to the Ministry with little Peter Pettigrew…but there were things that Pettigrew had seen that simply could not come to light.

Voldemort had modified the pathetic man's memories. The Dark Lord had also tinkered with Sirius' and Harry's memories so that they could not be revealed through Veritaserum. Sirius had only submitted that with Harry's hand on his shoulder.

And then…Harry and Sirius had to get their story straight. By sunrise, they had a plan together.

They would not tell Remus about Voldemort, at least for the time being. Most of Sirius' story they kept the same: he escaped when Voldemort broke his followers out of Azkaban. He paddled through the sea as a dog before reaching shore…the rest was about survival.

According to their story, Sirius ran into Harry at Diagon Alley this past summer – just as in real life. He revealed himself to Harry there and they kept up a correspondence. When Sirius captured Pettigrew, Harry was the first person Sirius "notified."

Sirius could move around much better as a dog, so they blamed his crippled condition on Azkaban. Their story was solid…but it still made them both a bit uncomfortable. They wanted to tell Remus the truth, but that simply was not an option at this point. Their plan was flawed, but with a little luck, they could get through it all without too many problems.

"I can't believe it," Remus whispered to himself. "Sirius never betrayed us…"

"Crazy, isn't it?" Harry asked him. Remus looked at him, surprised that Harry had heard him. "It's amazing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about him. I was worried…"

"That I wouldn't believe you?" Remus finished for him. Harry shook his head.

"No," Harry said. "I was worried that you'd go to Dumbledore or something. I…I'm not really sure I wanted him involved."

Remus frowned. "Why not?"

Well, that was an easy one. Harry needed to only point to his own past and how badly Dumbledore had fucked _that_ up. "Because - look, Remus, Dumbledore's a great man. Best bloke around, yada, yada…but he messed up my life. Remember when we first met? He put me in an orphanage and I still haven't forgiven him – I don't think I ever will, either. So when I got the chance to help my own godfather…"

"I understand," Remus wrapped and arm around his shoulders and squeezed. "There's nothing to forgive. I'm just glad that Sirius forgave me for thinking him a traitor."

Harry picked up a handful of Floo before he looked up at the man. "Why wouldn't he? You're his best friend. He needs you."

Harry winked and dropped the powder, swirling away to stumble out of the Headmaster's Floo. Remus was hot on his heels.

"Ah, there you are, gentlemen. How did it go at the Ministry?"

Harry dusted the soot from the front of his robes. Dumbledore sat behind his desk with a quill in hand and a pleasant smile on his face.

"Kingsley was a great help," Remus informed him, smoothing his ruffled hair whilst sending Harry a look. "He got us through to the Minister without too much fuss – although Harry probably had a hand in that as well. Kingsley told you everything?"

Dumbledore nodded, using his desk to support his weight as he stood.

"He did," Dumbledore said softly with a tentative smile. "And while I must admit that curiosity is eating at me, I applaud you both on your efforts; if what I hear is true, you have saved an innocent man from a very unfortunate fate.

"But Professor Lupin and I shall discuss the sordid details of it all," Dumbledore reached out, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder and leading him to the door. "We shall speak later, Harry; enjoy the rest of your weekend, will you?"

Harry smiled faintly and bid them a farewell – he was exhausted, anyway. He had spent the majority of a full day fixing other people's problems, going without sleep. His eyes itched and his body felt heavy; a nice long nap in his dorm room would be perfection…

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry just about groaned, but he brightened a bit when he saw who was approaching him.

"Hey, Ced. How's it going, mate?"

Harry ran a vigorous hand through his hair, shaking off the mental cobwebs. Pearly teeth shone down at him; Cedric was the only one of his friend who was still significantly taller than him. The Hufflepuff was much more wiry than he had been a few years ago, but that was to be expected, really. Cedric was one of the tallest boys in the school.

"It's going alright," Cedric said. "Way too much homework for a weekend, though. And on the first week, no less! I thought OWL year was over!" Cedric chuckled a bit before examining Harry closely. His eyes grew concerned.

"Rough night, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, waving a hand.

"No – er, well, not in the way you mean it. I was going to go take a nap, actually."

Cedric perked up. "Well, don't let me stop you! Tell you what – I'll walk you down to the dungeons. Sound good?"

Harry smirked wearily. "Sure. I've been meaning to hang out with you this week, you know. Stuff's just gotten in the way."

"It's fine," Cedric laughed. "Cho's kept me company just fine, don't you worry."

Harry rolled his eyes at that. He had forgotten about Cedric's girlfriend. "So how's that all going? Cho, I mean?"

The two of them shuffled down the Grand Staircase. Cedric smiled.

"It's…new," Cedric said. "Having a girlfriend is…weird. I've got butterflies in my stomach half the time when I'm around her and I'm not sure if it's because I like her or if it's just because of the situation…does that make sense?"

Harry rose his eyebrows. "No. It doesn't." Cedric shoved him.

"You're thirteen," Cedric informed him as Harry laughed. "Of course it doesn't."

"Have you snogged her, yet?"

Cedric's eyes widened as Harry grinned predatorily. "Go on," Harry urged him.

Cedric looked down, blushing.

"Er…ahem – yes," Cedric stuttered. "And –"

Harry hopped down the final steps. "And how'd it go?" Harry snickered. "Any wandering hands? Perhaps a bit…more?"

"Never mind," Cedric muttered swiftly. Harry laughed.

"Don't worry, I'm only teasing," Harry patted him on the back. "I think it's great. You've just got one up on me, that's all. Gotta give you grief somehow, right?"

Cedric looked at him without amusement for a moment before his expression softened. "Of course. It's all so new to me, though. I want to be…_good_ at it."

Harry rose an eyebrow. "Good at snogging?"

"No – I mean, that too," Flinched Cedric, correcting himself. "But I mean that I want to be a good boyfriend."

Harry nodded silently and let the comment hang in the air. He could respect that. The desire to be good at things was something that Harry could appreciate. It was funny, though; when Harry thought of Cedric, he thought of his best friend that cared more than anyone else did. Was that not what relationships were about?

Oh well. What did he know about relationships?

"You know," Harry started, deciding that Cedric needed to hear it. "You're my best friend."

Cedric looked at him, dumbfounded. "Thanks? I mean, we don't get to hang out as much anymore, but…"

"Seriously, though," Harry insisted. "Nothing's ever awkward between us. I trust you more than anyone, I think. If you are as considerate with Cho as you are with our friendship…you'll be fine. I just wanted you to know that."

Cedric's eyes shone. "You're my best friend too, Harry. Thanks."

Harry stared at him for a moment. Why was Cedric standing like that?

Oh. Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and held his arms out. "Come on."

Cedric grinned and hugged him. Harry patted the older boy on the back once more.

"We good, now?" Harry asked. Cedric nodded happily.

"Go take a nap," Urged Cedric. "I'll see you later."

And Cedric took off, whistling merrily. Harry watched him go with a small smile on his face.

* * *

Harry milled about the Common Room for a few minutes, speaking to some of his housemates – it gave him a much-needed chance to settle down. Harry had noticed that Blaise and Theo were nestled into the corner of the Common Room, working on homework. Theo looked like he was coming apart at the seams; the boy's fists were wound tightly into his hair and the bags under his eyes were alarming.

Harry wasn't the only one short on sleep, it appeared. He would have to talk to Theo tomorrow.

When he finished speaking saying hello to one of the upper years, Harry looked over and found Draco talking to Pansy Parkinson; Draco had a look of utter boredom on his face and Harry wanted to grin; he had said it to Cedric just moments ago, but it was just as true with Draco: they were his best friends. From day one, they were his family.

Harry had spent the entirety of the past day for his family. He fought for Sirius. He brought Remus into the mix. He had reaffirmed his relationship with Cedric…but he had done nothing for Draco.

There was something he _could_ do, however. Secrets were necessary at times, but it made things much more difficult. They were not always necessary...and the secret Harry was keeping from Draco was not necessary.

Harry frowned, and made his mind up.

"Hey Draco," Harry whispered quietly, putting his hands on the back of the couch. "You mind coming to the dorm for a moment?"

Draco looked over his shoulder from where he was lounging. Apparently he saw something in Harry's face, because he got up went without a fuss – without even saying anything to Parkinson. The girl huffed harshly. It was very unlike Draco.

"…Yes?" Draco asked, opening the door to their dorm. Harry shut it behind them. "Is this important?"

Harry watched Draco as the boy settled on his own bed, scratching his bangs back from his face before flopping on his back to lie on the downy covers. It was something that Draco would never have done unless they were alone.

Harry smiled grimly. "Yeah. Pretty important."

Draco put a hand up, motioning for Harry to continue.

"Er – well," Harry started awkwardly. "Do you know how your father and I – how we – "

"- How both you and my parents have been doing something behind my back all summer?" Draco asked mildly. "Yes, I am aware."

Harry blinked. "Well…I don't think Lucius would really want me to tell you what's going on, but I…I need – I can't keep secrets from everyone, Draco. You're my best mate. If I can't tell you, who can I tell?"

Draco propped himself up on his elbows, flipping his hair until it was out of his eyes. "Go on."

Harry sat on his own bed, opposite of Draco. He looked down between his feet. "I dunno why I feel ashamed to tell you – I suppose it's because I should have done it earlier…I have been in contact with…Voldemort."

"What?!"

Draco was sitting up, now. Harry matched his friend's gaze. "He's back? _Really_?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed quietly. "And we talk on a regular basis."

Draco stood, running a disbelieving hand through his hair. "H-how? When did you meet him? Why have you been keeping this from me?"

"Because I'm an idiot – it was probably a smart thing to do at the start, but not now," Harry got up, squinting in apology at the other boy. "You know the day we met? I met Voldemort that day as well...at Gringotts."

Draco's eyes were bulging. He looked around the room wildly. "So you're…? What? A Death Eater? Does he even make Death Eaters out of children?!"

Harry felt a flicker of amusement at Draco's antics. "I…yes. And we agree on a lot of things. He…he taught me these."

Harry rolled up his sleeves, showing Draco the runes on his forearms. Draco laughed sharply, almost hysterically. His eyes widened and he nearly sprinted across the room to shut the door, locking it right after.

Harry frowned. Had he not just shut that thing?

"He also helped me save your life in first year, remember? And he helped me to punish Marcus Flint."

Draco watched him with something akin to horror, his hand floating in front of him as if it desired to cover his face.

"He," Harry sighed. "He was Quirrell, in our first year. For a time. I helped him to regain his body."

"He knows who I am!" Squeaked Draco. Harry winced; he had not thought that Draco's voice went that high. "H-he…I slacked off in his class!"

"He likes you," Harry grinned. "He asked about you, once. He said you seemed bright for an eleven year old."

Draco puffed up like one of his father's peacocks. This was going better than Harry had thought it would.

"So…you brought the Dark Lord back," Draco muttered. "My best mate brought back the Dark Lord – you're on his side, right? You're on our side?"

Draco asked the question so insistently. Pleadingly. Harry gave him a flat look.

"Of course I am," Harry said lowly. "You know my thoughts on…things. He has been working in secret so far…that's going to change very soon, though."

Draco sank back onto his bed, staring at nothing on the floor. Harry sat down beside him.

"You've spent so much time with Dumbledore and his people…I thought I was going to lose my best friend if the Dark Lord ever came back," Draco told him quietly. "I'm relieved that you aren't…one of _them_."

Harry smiled sadly. "Never. Everything that I do with Dumbledore is strictly for power. That man has hurt me too much for anything else."

"Good," Draco muttered vindictively. "I'm glad you haven't forgotten. _I_ haven't forgotten."

They sat in silence and Harry felt happy; Draco had taken the news splendidly. There would be questions, of course, but no he would not have to lie to his friend anymore. But he had another secret too, did he not? Harry nudged Draco after a time.

"…One more thing."

"What?"

"…My godfather Sirius Black was falsely charged with mass murder when we were young and went to Azkaban without a trial. Well, he escaped when Voldemort broke into Azkaban and I spent the entire day defending him to Minister Fudge. He's going to go free and may want me to move in with him. Erm…wanna talk about that?"

"HARRY!"

* * *

**Well, Draco, you _wanted_ to know.  
**

**There you go, folks. I'm currently in the process of revising earlier chapters - they need it - so let me know if you see any mistakes. I'm going to bed; I have school at 8:00.**

**See you soon.**

**Brigade**


	9. Interlude: Words on Parchment

**What's up, everyone?**

**This chapter is awfully short for my normal standard, but I felt like I needed an extra chapter to both finalize some things and set up some others. In this chapter, we've got a few letters and some articles - well, that's if you can consider anything Rita Skeeter writes as and article.**

**...It's more of a dishonest feature, really. Anyway! Everything in this chapter is ordered chronologically. **

**Let me just say that I appreciate the reviews. I really do. I'm awfully busy nowadays; I'm a full-time college student, I work roughly 20 hours a week, and I babysit my one-year-old niece each day. Your reviews help me out a bunch when it comes to the creative process of writing this story. It's awesome to know that people are really enjoying this thing.**

**You can follow this story on Twitter if you wish at BrigadeEitD. I post updates and spoilers and shit.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Voldemort,

Firstly, thanks for letting my godfather go free. You had your fun, admittedly, but you kept your word. Both to him and me. I appreciate it. Thanks.

Exactly why you let him go and how it benefits you, however, is still lost on me. I know you well enough by now to know that you're getting something from this. Anyway, enough of this sentimental shit.

I talked to Fudge and got him to pardon my godfather from all of the crimes that he was accused of. They've sent Pettigrew off to a holding cell in the Ministry and they're going to try him in front of the entire Wizengamot.

…Is that what you're getting from this? Getting rid of Pettigrew?

I doubt it. There's definitely more to it.

I also procured a monetary recompense from the Ministry for Sirius, and Fudge said that it would be substantial, but I've agreed to do something for Fudge in exchange that I'm sure you'd like to know about.

Fudge wanted me to agree to compete in the Tournament of European Battle Wizards. It's being hosted here in Britain next month. I said yes.

I'll win, of course. I know too much magic not to. Nevertheless, do you know anything about the tournament that I should be made aware of? What exactly does it entail?

I'm back at school now and after writing this letter, I'm going to take a nap. I've been up way too long. I told my friend Draco about your return – he was shocked, awed, and now he wants your autograph. HE told me not to tell you, though. Whoops.

My friend Theo's been acting really weird, lately. You remember him, right? He's usually really laid back and fun to be around, but he's been stressed. I heard him whimpering in his bed last night. Got any advice for how to deal with that?

Oh! Also, I'm looking into fixing my godfather's leg. Your healer said he'd never heal properly and I call bullshit. Do you know where I ought to look? I'm not sure what type of magic can counteract the effects of poison, but ritualistic magic has worked for me in the past.

Well. I'm going to pass out, now. Thanks again for letting my godfather go free.

Harry

* * *

**Sirius Black – Innocent**

By: Patrick Fairview

In a shocking decision jointly made Saturday morning by Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, Head of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones, and Head Auror Rufus Scrimegour, Azkaban-escapee Sirius Black was declared innocent of all accused crimes.

"It was a startling discovery that made this all possible," Fudge said. "A suspect was captured late last evening and after questioning, the Ministry has decided to pardon Sirius Black for all suspected crimes committed against the Wizarding World of Britain."

According to Auror reports, Sirius Black was accused of homicide as well the mass murder of Muggles on October 31, 1981. Reports indicate that Black, a known friend of the Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter's parents, was responsible for their deaths as well as the death of mutual friend Peter Pettigrew. Black was also believed to be a servant of the former Dark Lord You-Know-Who.

Black was issued a lifetime sentence to Azkaban prison. He was taken to the island without a trial.

It took a new suspect to change these beliefs: Peter Pettigrew.

"Our interview with the suspect provided revolutionary information, to say the least," Bones said. "The Ministry is not authorized to provide information to the public at this time, but we have collected enough new information to pardon Mr. Black."

Pettigrew was allegedly killed by Black's wand when he confronted Black about betraying the Potters. How Pettigrew lived is not known at this time.

Black's pardon is revolutionary; never before has a criminal who went without trial been proven innocent.

"Sirius Black's situation is regrettable, it really is," Fudge said. "Azkaban is not a nice place. It is a place for hardened criminals and after speaking to Mr. Black today, I can tell you that he is most assuredly not that. It's a shame; Black's case was handled under Minister Bagnold's regime – handled in particular by (Former Head of Law Enforcement) Barty Crouch. All we can do now is get this right. Mr. Black has wrongly suffered enough."

Black's condition after a decade in Azkaban was described as "miraculously good," though "the poor man is limping something awful."

"The Ministry has decided that Mr. Black deserves a monetary recompense for his suffering," Bones said. "We will be in contact over the next couple of days with Gringotts before deciding on a proper amount."

Sources say that Black, the only remaining member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, will regain access to his family vault as well as an appeal process to regain the custody rights to his godson,

Harry Potter.

Neither Sirius Black nor Harry Potter was available for comment. Stay tuned to the Daily Prophet for updates.

* * *

Hello, Harry!

I've lined up an interview for you with Daily Prophet columnist Rita Skeeter in regards to the Tournament of European Battle Wizards! You two can meet in the conference room in my department. Will next Saturday afternoon be alright with you? Ms. Skeeter is a lovely young lady, I assure you; she'll make sure you come off well!

The Wizengamot is currently deliberating on your godfather's case. It's going well. Pettigrew is all but charged and the monetary purse for Mr. Black will be substantial, I promise.

Let me know if there's anything I can do for you!

Cornelius Fudge

Minister of Magic

* * *

Minister,

…Do I have to? Fine. Saturday it is.

Harry

* * *

Harry,

Am I benefiting from your godfather's release? Of course, and in multiple ways. Regardless, you are most welcome.

The Ministry's trial of Peter Pettigrew does not interest me in the slightest, but your news of competing in the Tournament of European Battle Wizards does. It is a tournament held every three years that consists of one on one duels. It is very similar to Slytherin's dueling pit. It is a single elimination tournament.

This tidbit of news offers us a _very_ unique opportunity. You say that you will be victorious – good. I am ordering you to win, Harry. Do not fail me; train diligently.

Enclosed I have provided you with several items. Firstly, there is a shrunken letter for your friend Draco. Give it to him. It contains a few motivational words from yours truly…as well as an autograph.

Let it be said that I know how to recruit.

In the case of your godfather, I have collected some books from my library – they are included with this letter as well. You will need to research for yourself, but I would tend to agree with you; if there is a possible solution for your godfather's crippled state, I believe it would come in the form of a ritual.

As for your friend Theo – whimpering in bed, you say? Harry, I must admit that it has been several years since I myself was a teenager, but perhaps that whimpering could best be described as…moaning?

It is mere speculation on my part. If it concerns you so much, simply talk to the boy. I cannot solve _all_ of your problems for you.

Be ready,

Voldemort

* * *

**Britain's Champion – the Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter Enters Dueling Tournament**

By: Rita Skeeter

Though only thirteen, Harry Potter looks every bit the hero that he is. Harry is tall and broad for his age with a strong jaw and shockingly striking green eyes. His black hair is thick and tousled wildly; he looks every bit the savior that the Wizarding World needs.

Now, we will all get to see how strong the Boy-Who-Lived really is. Harry Potter will be competing in the junior division of the Tournament of European Battle Wizards next month.

"I've decided to try my hand a dueling," Harry's smile is enough to make any young lady swoon. "It's something that I feel that I'm pretty skilled at. Dueling is a strength of mine and I'm excited to get the opportunity showcase that talent in front of the entire country."

Potter's tragic past is well documented; orphaned at age one, Potter was raised in a Muggle orphanage and was never adopted. It is a heart breaking story, made even more so seeing the strong, confident young man in person.

Reports suggest that Potter is the top of his year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, that may not be enough; while the junior division of T.E.B.W. is open to any witch or wizard underage, most competitors will be on the cusp of being of age. Harry Potter is 13.

"I recognize that most people will see me as an underdog in this tournament," Potter smiled. "And that is fine. Just know this: I would not be participating if I did not expect to win. That's my goal. If there's one thing that I can promise you, it's that I will surprise people – I'll surprise my competitors, I'll surprise the spectators. Hopefully, by the end of the tournament, the Boy-Who-Lived title will be out of date. More than anything, though, I'm just excited to get this opportunity. I have to thank Minister Fudge for letting me know about this tournament."

Sources tell me that Potter flourished in the Ministry's elimination process to determine the finalists to represent Britain in the upcoming dueling tournament. However, Harry Potter has more going on for him at the moment than just a dueling tournament and this reporter would be doing her readers a disservice to not ask all the tough questions of our young prodigy.

What do you think of the Ministry's ruling regarding your now-free godfather Sirius Black, Harry Potter?

"I've met Sirius in the past few days and we get along splendidly," Potter dropped his head, however. Unshed tears glistened in his strong eyes as he looked up. "It's just tough when you consider what he had to go through. Sirius didn't deserve any of it. He was loyal to my parents until the very end. I'm so grateful to have him in my life, now, and I can only thank those in charge for giving him a second chance. Most importantly, I'm confident that similar situations to my godfather's will not happen under Minister Fudge and Madam Bones. They have done a great job."

Our young hero is reaching that age where a boy becomes a man, ladies and gentlemen, and the topic of love, as always seems to happen, arose.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," Harry blushes a lovely color, dear readers! "It's not really on my mind, you know? I just want to play Quidditch, do well in my classes, and hang out with my friends."

Has our young hero even had a first kiss? I can tell you firsthand, dear readers, that the answer is no. Never fear: I am sure some young lady or gentleman would love to give our hero his fairytale moment.

Perhaps, at least, the Boy-Who-Lived has a crush?

"Maybe," Harry winked coyly. "It's not something I'd really want coming out in the newspaper, anyway."

Best of luck to you, young hero. Our readers here at the Daily Prophet will be eager to follow your path to the dueling tournament and whatever paths it may take. But please, work on that first kiss, hmm?

* * *

Fudge,

I'm never having another interview with that bitch again, you hear me? I never cried, I never winked, I never did half of the stuff she said I did. That article is an embarrassment and libelous. Would you like to know what type of "fan mail" I received as a result of her article? You know what? I don't even want to list it; I'll just burn all of it.

Royally pissed,

Harry Potter

* * *

Harry,

How are you? I think everything has finally been sorted out with the Ministry but they wanted me to go and get checked out at Saint Mungo's. They gave me a few potions and advised me to move around as much as I can, but they said there is nothing to be done about my leg. Sure, it's not fair, but it beats Azkaban.

Remus has been helping me move into a small, temporary flat – the Ministry is paying for it, of course – and we've shopped Diagon for all the essentials. The stares were obvious, but it was lovely to walk around in public again. Anyway, the flat isn't much, but it'll do for the moment. I still wish to buy a house, though, away from the city; it will just have to wait until the Ministry is finished with Pettigrew. Perhaps we can shop for a house this winter?

I cannot tell you how excited I am to have you and Remus moving in with me. I was never really on my own after Hogwarts. I always had my friends with me and everything we did, we did together. Having my godson with me will be even better.

We've not gotten the chance to really get to know each other, Harry, and I'm not sure I even know myself anymore. Everything's changed since I was a boy. And now you have your own things to deal with. I'm sure you know what I mean. Well, I just want to take the chance to say that we'll figure it all out. I'll always be your godfather, and in a way that my own father never was to me. I promise.

Besides, I have enough good stories of your own father and of Remus to go around. I didn't tell you that your father and I both became Animagi, did I? We learned that well before OWLs, even! It helped Remus out and your father and I would do anything for family. Just like the alley. I'd do anything for my family, Harry.

I must admit that I am having a bit of trouble moving around my flat, though. Bloody leg. If I don't have something to lean against, it just doesn't work out well. I've been walking around as Padfoot, mainly. It's much easier.

Enough sirius stuff (ha!). How have your classes been? I'm sure Snape is his usual, unpleasant self. Did you know that I went to school with the git? Yeah, I try not to think about it either.

Are you preparing for your tournament yet? I doubt you really need to; your last duel was awfully impressive. Still, it's probably smart to practice; I'd love to see you win it all.

See you soon,

Sirius

* * *

Hey Sirius,

Classes are fine. They're pretty much just an obligation that I have to go to, now. It's fun to watch Professor McGonagall get all twitchy when I transfigure something way too well.

I'm glad you're getting settled in on your own. Looking for a house this winter sounds brilliant! I've never had a house of my own before and it sounds like you never really did either, did you? That's fine; we'll just have to make sure our house puts every single other house to shame.

I'm used to people staring at me, personally. It's not the worst thing. You just have to accept it. Shrinking away from it make it all worse.

Oh, case and point. Did you read that bloody article that Rita Skeeter did on me? I never really wanted to agree to do it, but Fudge needled me. And the woman lied through the whole bloody thing. It'd be easy to mope about it, but instead I wrote a letter to the Minister and insulted the woman. That made me feel much better!

I never had a father, either. Well, I did, but I never knew him. He sounds like he was a decent bloke, but I never _knew_ him. I do know you, though, and you mean more to me than I'd ever thought possible. I never had family before. I guess it just works this way, huh?

I'd do anything for my family as well. I was put into a situation in first year where I had to prove that. I did.

I really hate hearing about your leg. I'm looking for a solution right now. The research I've done so far is very promising. You'll be moving around like an athlete in no time. You've got the Potter guarantee on that.

You're really going to have to teach me how to become an Animagus, though. Seriously! I want to learn that!

I'm not preparing for the tournament quite yet, but I will in due time. I'm actually focusing on Quidditch, at the moment. My first match is right after the dueling tournament and training for Quidditch is much more challenging. We'll be taking on Ravenclaw.

Don't worry, I'll win.

I told my friend Draco about you. He was shocked to hear about your lack of trial and everything else, muttering about purebloods being treated wrongly. It was pretty funny. I'll have to introduce the two of you sometime.

Thanks for writing, Sirius. Start looking into houses!

Your godson,

Harry

* * *

**So what do you think? It's the first time I've done a chapter like this and I don't plan on making a habit of it. It gave you enough plot, yes?**

**Writing as Skeeter makes me cringe - it goes against EVERYTHING I've learned in school.**

**Take it easy, folks; I'll see you soon.**

**Brigade**


	10. The Dueling Tournament

**Hey, y'all. I've got a new chapter for you! I meant to put this up last night but...well, I got drunk. Sorry?**

**Anyway! Rising action, falling action. We're back to rising action. I'll get to work on the next chapter when I get home from work - I've already outlined that one.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Dueling Tournament**

"Wow…there are so many people outside," Cedric said, opening the door to peek outside. Blaise scoffed.

"What did you expect, Diggory? Empty stands? This is the first time Britain has hosted this tournament in thirty years."

Cedric turned his head from the doorway, looking mildly at the other boy. "It's still mighty impressive."

Blaise shrugged, clearly unimpressed. "To someone unaccustomed to large crowds, I'm sure."

"It's cool," Fred Weasley defended.

"Wicked cool," Added George.

Blaise rolled his eyes, looking towards Harry. "And who invited the Gryffindors to this, again?"

"Harry invited us, of course, Zucchini," George said somberly.

"Linguine."

"Panini."

"Fettuccine."

"Martini!"

"You're too young for those," Fred sighed, patting George on the head. "So am I, come to think of it."

Blaise appeared quite agitated. "Are you two quite – "

"Blaise!" George chirped, pointing two fingers at Zabini.

"Glaze!"

"Malaise!"

"Appraise!"

"Guys," Harry muttered softly. Everyone fell silent except for his godfather Sirius, sniggering softly in the corner of the room. Harry had his eyes closed as he squatted on his right leg, reaching down to clasp the opposite ankle. His hamstring stretched pleasantly and he let out a long exhale.

Harry's first duel of the Tournament of European Battle Wizards was about to begin – his friends, therefore, needed to shut up and let him concentrate.

They all had arrived at the Ministry early in the morning – Dumbledore had allowed Harry's friends to leave the school so they could watch the tournament. Harry had been introduced to the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports Ludo Bagman and several other officials. Bagman was a jolly bloke who had formerly played Quidditch, though the few years he had been off the pitch were catching up to him, if the man's belly were a sign. Harry had even met the referee: an older wizard with salt and pepper hair. Then, Harry had been shipped off to a room across from the dueling arena. A witch would stop by periodically to let him know the schedule.

"You'll be in the thirteenth duel, lad," The woman has said. They would not tell him the name of his opponent, and that was fine with him.

The dueling arena was on the bottom floor of the Ministry along with the courtrooms. It made sense: In the old days, dueling was a form of trial – trial by combat, it was called. Now, the arena had been renovated and improved, acting as a makeshift stadium.

How would they fit all the spectators in there? Magic, silly.

It was interesting, though, the impact power could have on one's confidence. Harry knew that he was more powerful than everyone in the tournament. It was not arrogant to believe as much, either. Had he not taken steps that no one else had, gone to lengths no one else would dream of doing in order to get to where he was? Others were reactive – Harry was _proactive_. No one else was driven like him.

Still…this was a single elimination tournament, and power was not all that mattered; if any of Harry's opponents were able to catch him off guard for the merest of moments, he could lose.

Harry did not want to lose. He _really_ did not want to lose. Harry looked down for a moment, down at his arms; he was wearing a sleeveless grey undershirt that did nothing to hide the runes on his forearms. They glistened merrily on the innards of each forearm, providing Harry a gentle reminder of his past.

He would not lose – he could not let it happen.

"Sirius – pass me my shirt?"

Sirius grabbed the thin, green garment with a lopsided grin and tossed it through the air toward his godson. Harry snatched it and smiled in thanks before slipping it over his head. Narcissa had taken Harry to see a tailor once she had heard about the tournament – all of his clothing was specifically made for the tournament; all of his opponents would probably be wearing restrictive robes, but not Harry.

Instead, Harry had a pair of black trousers made from a very durable material – it stretched a bit, too. The shirt he wore was long-sleeved and had no collar. It was unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest. Harry waved his arms back and forth, grinning. He felt ready.

A tentative knock sounded against the door.

"Come in," Harry called. Minister Fudge peeked in, blinking in surprise.

"Er…hello, boys," Fudge said distractedly, nodding swiftly to Harry's friends. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Just fine," Harry smiled. Fudge was looking nervous –it always made Harry feel a bit better, knowing he had Fudge off guard.

"Uh…good! I must say, you're looking good, young man! Looking ready!" Fudge chuckled sheepishly. "It's not quite the normal…erm, attire, but you look ready nonetheless!"

Harry bounced on the balls of his feet – he was wearing low-top trainers, or at least the wizarding equivalent – before reaching for his goblet of water. He took a slow gulp.

"It's what I'm used to. I'll be able to move better," clarified Harry, setting the goblet down with a dull thud. "How's it looking out there?"

Fudge smiled weakly. "Just fine, my boy. Quite the crowd – all ready to see you, at that! But listen, Harry, I wanted to speak with you briefly about your godfather's monetary compensation – I've got the slip right here. Perhaps you'd…be willing to give it to him? Things are terribly awkward, you see – "

Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement, examining the slip of parchment that Fudge handed to him. 658,000 Galleons – quite the sum of money. Fudge had come through, alright. Harry smiled patronizingly as he handed the parchment back to the Minister.

"Wow," Harry remarked. "I'm impressed, sir. Thank you – if you'd like, however, you can just hand the slip to my godfather. He's right behind you, after all…"

Sirius grinned broadly at Harry's mischief and quickly made the decision to play along; he adopted a fierce scowl.

Fudge squeaked, swiveling around before smiling sickly. "Mr. B-Black! Hello, sir…how are you?"

Sirius leered at the Minister for a moment before tapping his cane heavily against the ground and raising an eyebrow. "How does it look like I'm doing, Fudge?"

Fudge cleared his throat helplessly, forcing a smile. "Erm…well, h-here you are, sir! Just take this by Gringotts and the goblins will be more than happy to reactivate your accounts and transfer the gold over."

Sirius took the slip without a word, not even looking at the sum. He simply stared at the Minister.

"What was that article about, Fudge?"

Fudge looked alarmed. "I-I beg your pardon?"

"Skeeter," Sirius barked. Harry grinned at his friends. "That rubbish write wrote that stuff about Harry a few weeks ago. What was that all about?"

"Mr. Black, Ms. Skeeter does her best – "

"She is pretty rubbish," Harry threw in innocently, pulling his elbow above his head. The look on Fudge's face was priceless.

"Come now, Harry, Ms. Skeeter is not _all_ bad."

Professor Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, peeking his head inside the door. The Headmaster was wearing the most ridiculous robes Harry had ever seen; the robes were silver. _Silver_. Not grey. Silver…and with green floral patterns.

"Do you like them?" Dumbledore asked with a chuckle. "Normally, I am not in a position to show favoritism. However, with only two of my students in this tournament, I can have a rooting interest. It's a refreshing change of pace – ah, there you are, Cornelius!"

"Oh, h-hello, Albus," Fudge stuttered, blinking. "I was just dropping by to…to speak with Mr. Black, here. Harry – best of luck, lad."

Fudge took Dumbledore's look of surprise as the opportunity to scurry out the door. The Headmaster's attention was trained on Sirius. Sirius shifted in agitation.

"Going to say something?" Sirius growled. "Or are you going to just stand there looking at me all day?"

"Sirius Black," Dumbledore's face appeared pained. "Regrettably, you appear much, much older than the last time we met. How have you been adjusting, friend? Did you receive my letter?"

Sirius looked insulted for a moment. He glanced to a pensive Remus before scoffing. "Yeah, I got your ruddy letter. Friend? I've been in prison for a decade, I've been crippled, and I've been betrayed. I think our friendship is a thing of the past."

Professor Dumbledore frowned sadly. Harry, for his part, stayed silent. This was Sirius' fight – if it was even a fight. "Indeed. We all made mistakes during the previous war, and there are none I regret more than how accused Death Eaters were treated. You deserved better, Sirius – "

"Then why didn't you give me better?" Sirius barked angrily.

Dumbledore raised a hand in acknowledgement. "Truthfully, I did not have the power to do anything. However, I should have tried. Many of us overlooked the entire ordeal. Voldemort's –"

All of Harry's Slytherin friends flinched, causing the twins to snicker.

" - original demise was sudden and led to a temporary loss of common sense," Dumbledore continued softly. "Sirius, would you grant me the honor of a private discussion later? There is sensitive information that I should share with you – hopefully, we can also start to repair our relationship."

Sirius eyed Dumbledore with distrust. Harry folded his arms.

"Fine," Sirius muttered in annoyance. "We'll talk. Later, though; my godson has a tournament to win."

Sirius flashed Harry a look of fondness. Harry grinned and ducked his head.

"Indeed he does," Dumbledore smiled. "I believe you have a fair shot in this tournament, Harry. I have faith in you."

Harry smiled. "What? No pep talk? No last-minute advice?"

"You have everything you require. Have fun," The Headmaster patted him on the back. "And perhaps stay away from Rita Skeeter between rounds."

Harry chortled incredulously. "Just between rounds? I'm staying away from her forever."

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are nearing the halfway point of the opening round of this year's junior dueling tournament, and our next duel will certainly be a treat!" Ludo Bagman shouted. "Introducing first from Finland: she has been dueling since the age of nine and recently won a regional dueling tournament Alicia Margot!"

"It's Harry's turn – this _is_ Harry's turn, right?" Sirius muttered nervously to Remus. Remus smiled, glancing patiently at his friend.

"Yes, Sirius. He'll do fine – I'm not worried in the slightest. I _do_ teach him every day, you know."

"Not worried – okay, yes I am. Not just about the tournament, though," Sirius admitted gruffly, ignoring the puzzled look Remus threw him. How was he supposed to share his worries with Remus? He loved Harry to bits, but Harry was in with _Voldemort_. He was…Harry was just like his brother.

Regulus had always been a good kid. He was kind, polite, empathetic...he was everything Sirius had not been. However, Sirius had escaped the family mantra. He rebelled against his family's darkness. Regulus, like the good son he was, stayed in line.

Now, Regulus was dead. And, in Regulus' shining moment, he had betrayed Voldemort.

The similarities were uncanny, Sirius thought. Harry was everything Regulus had been – strong, caring, kind…but Harry had not had the best influences on him, either. Goodness would win out, Sirius was sure. However, the implications of that were even _more_ worrisome.

Sirius missed his brother.

Sirius sighed, looking around the arena. It was fairly large and circular – much like an old gladiatorial arena. The stands were raised high above the action, protected from stray spells. They were near the front row of the stands. The Weasley boys and Cedric Diggory sat on the row in front of him; Remus and the Harry's Slytherin friends sat on the row with him. Only a few hundred or so were in the arena at the moment, it seemed. There would be more people for the adult's bracket of the tournament.

"What spells do you think he'll use?" Harry's friend Blaise asked eagerly. Another one, Theo shrugged, not looking over. That made Sirius frown for a different reason; Harry had asked Sirius specifically to pay attention to his friend Theo. Harry had said that the boy was acting a bit off.

Well, he certainly seemed sullen.

"If I had to wager, I'd bet that this won't take long, Blaise," The Malfoy boy smirked. "Harry will end this quickly."

"Very confident in your friend, yes?"

A deep, accented voice had the entire group turning around; a man was sitting two rows above them, peering down curiously.

The man was very tan, wearing a dark-colored, well-tailored, pinstriped Muggle suit. The man had his hands wrapped around one knee, revealing the white cuffs of his dress shirt, a gleaming, sliver watch on his wrist, and a single burgundy dress shoe. He had a goatee as well, which made his face seem almost pointy.

"…Yes," Draco said eventually, sizing up the man. "Harry's awfully good at dueling."

"And, her opponent," Bagman rumbled dramatically from the press box. "This competitor needs no introduction! He's the only competitor under the age of sixteen in the tournament - he is thirteen, folks! More than that, he is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse! He is the Boy-Who-Lived! Ladies and gentlemen, Britain's own…Harry Potter!"

The crowd roared as Harry stepped out from the tunnel on the ground floor of the arena. It made Sirius blink – perhaps there were more people here than he had first estimated.

"Ah, this is the boy who survived the Killing Curse?" The man spoke again, leaning forward to peer inquisitively at Harry. "We've heard of him in my country - quite the story."

Sirius coughed. "He's my godson." The man's brown eyes jumped to him.

"I chose quite the fortunate place to sit, then!" The man said with a crooked smile. "I apologize, my name is Tommaso Mucci."

Sirius shook the hand offered to him. "Sirius Black. You're Italian, yes? What brings you to Britain?"

"Well, the tournament, naturally," The man laughed softly. "Due to my ties with our Ministry, I was needed here."

"Ah," Sirius muttered awkwardly. "…You know any of the kids in the tournament?"

The man raised an index finger, smiling once more. "Just one."

* * *

The roar of the crowd stung Harry's ears and as he stepped out from underneath the canopy of the tunnel. The tournament workers had briefed him on how the arena would change during the duel before taking him down an elevator to get to the arena floor. If what they said was true, the floor of the arena could morph into different environment. That was a cool feature, Harry supposed, but now really was not the time to think much of it. Magic sizzled beneath his skin as he looked around; the crowd had filled in nicely – it was not quite a full house, but it was still a ridiculous amount of people.

"Go Potter!"

"Ha-rry! Ha-rry!"

"Go get them, Harry!"

"Look, Margaret! It's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Daddy, pick me up! I can't see!"

Harry looked to the left and right, taking it all in; he could see his friends and godfather off to his right. Harry strode forward toward the center of the arena. The wizarding official and his opponent – a pale girl with fair hair – stood, waiting for him. Harry stopped short, sizing up Alicia Margot.

The girl had alert eyes and shifty feet. She seemed the type to duel defensively. Harry smirked boastfully, enjoying the girl's look of uncertainty.

Honestly, it was fun to act cocky – people did not know how to deal with it.

"Standard junior dueling rules," The official wizard said. His words carried out through the entire arena. "No Dark curses, no spells considered illegal by the European Board of Magic. You both received your lists beforehand, yes?"

"Kyllä," The girl murmured. Harry simply nodded.

"Good. This will be a duel to one fall – not best two of three. You must disarm your opponent and disable them to be ruled victorious. The environment on the arena floor will change once I start the duel. You may use anything produced to your advantage. Are you ready?"

They both nodded.

"Good! Back to back…and pace – "

Harry turned on the spot and took the steps slowly, in time with the referee's cadence. At seven, he halted, looking down at the sandy dirt below him. Harry gripped his wand tightly; the wood seemed to heat up in his palm.

"Begin!"

"Bombarda Maxima!"

Harry whirled on the spot. The dust morphed to grass beneath the balls of his feet and Harry watched the red spell race after him. He could hear the crowd grow quiet -

Harry batted the spell away with his left arm. The girl was watching him warily, shifting closer to a tree near her left. Harry grinned predatorily.

Harry flicked his wand, directing it to the leaves in the tree overhead. He transfigured them; the leaves grew heavy and fell upon the girl as stones.

The girl hastily waved her wand, knocking them to the side before raising a shield in defense…but no one was in front of her.

The crowd gasped as the girl whipped her head from side to side. Harry gave her no chance to recover.

"_Expelliarmus_."

The girl whirled around, but it was too late; the spell knocked her off her feet, her wand lying several feet away.

Harry smirked – stealing Voldemort's moves was fun, too. Alicia Margot watched him with wide eyes, her hands clenching the grass below her tightly. Harry did nothing. He wanted to see what she would do.

She lunged for her wand and Harry bit back a laugh, summoning the stick inches before she reached it.

"_Incarcerous_."

Ropes wound around the girl tightly, tying hands to feet and feet to hands. A siren sounded as soon as the girl stilled.

"And your winner, ladies and gentlemen…Harry Potter!"

* * *

Harry smiled and nodded once more as a witch congratulated him, but continued taking the steps two at a time. The crowd roared as one of the duelists dove out of the way of a nasty spell. Harry had a bit of time to burn between his duels and he wanted to speak with his friends.

That first duel had been fairly easy, but Harry supposed the girl had not expected him to be as capable a duelist as he was. It was disappointing, really – Harry had expected a bit of a challenge from the girl.

"Hey, guys."

"Harry!"

The two twins vaulted past a sniggering Cedric as Harry's eyes grew wide. Suddenly, the twins each had an arm around his neck, forcing him to lean forward with the weight, stabilizing himself by putting a hand on each of their sides.

"It was such a marvelous display – simply splendid," George sniffed regally.

"- You defeat damsels so emphatically!" Fred added, swooning.

"Cedric – you've got to help me," Harry whispered hastily as he stumbled – the twins were holding on way too tightly. Cedric looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Harry, I had them sitting on either side of me – you're on your own," Cedric informed him.

"You didn't give that defenseless girl more than a second before you incapacitated here – such a hero -"

"Ahem…okay guys, I get it," Harry patted them both on the shoulder. "So? How was it?"

Remus and Sirius were more amused than he'd ever seen them.

"Very well done," Draco spoke up, ignoring the Weasley twins pantomiming worship at Harry's feet. "It was what we expected, of course, but impressive nonetheless."

"You kicked ass," Blaise said helpfully. Theo nodded, his arms wrapped around his midsection.

Harry smiled, waving the twins to their seats before sitting down with them. "Thanks. I don't think she really took me seriously."

"I would tend to agree with that thought," A man sitting behind Remus and Sirius said. Harry glanced over.

"I beg your pardon, sir – who are you?"

"Tommaso Mucci," He smiled. "I'm here to watch the tournament and I was lucky to run across your godfather, here. As for your duel…my, my. Very impressive. You're a natural out there – who is mentoring you, boy?"

Harry winced. "I don't like to think of it as mentoring, sir, but the Headmaster of my school, Albus Dumbledore, has taught me some stuff."

"I can tell," Mucci supplied. "Dumbledore has always had a noticeable Transfiguatory streak in his dueling style. It has rubbed off, I daresay. Clever, using the tree in the way you did."

Harry shrugged in thanks. "I just try to be aware of my surroundings."

"Awareness is good!" The man chuckled. "Preparation is, too. Are you prepared, boy?"

"Harry," Harry supplied.

"Are you prepared, Harry?" The man corrected himself.

Of course he was. "I think so, sir. I was for my last opponent, at least."

Mucci scrutinized him. "Not all opponents will be like your last opponent. You will be tested before the day is done."

"…I – Okay," Harry faltered. Who was this bloke? "Say, Theo – you want to come look at the leaderboard with me? They said we'd be reseeded based on how we perform. I bet my next opponent will be up there."

Theo looked up, frowning, but he nodded. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood up. Harry rose as well.

"We'll be back in a few," Harry informed them, putting his hand on Theo's shoulder. Was it his imagination, or did Theo twitch when Harry touched him?

Neither boy said anything until they had walked up to the top row of the arena and through a double door. Buzzing met Harry's ears as they stepped out into the lobby. Harry took in the bustling scene with a bit of surprise – he had been brought down to the dueling arena a different way this morning. Makeshift vendor stalls lined one of the walls, offering food and other goodies. On the other wall were booths, housing some of the competitors for the adult division dueling tournament. Harry watched impassively as a grizzled-looking bloke with a partially shaved head signed a little girl's autograph.

The last wall was lined with fireplaces, flashing green as more witches and wizards across Britain arrived. The crowd was growing even more boisterous, waiting for the start of the _real_ tournament. In the middle, the standings of the junior duel were levitating in midair. Names were moving to and fro in the brackets – the reseeding process was still occurring, after all.

"So…you doing okay?" Harry asked tentatively, glancing over to Theo.

Theo shrugged. "I'm fine. Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

Harry almost winced. He had tried to take Voldemort's advice and speak to Theo, but Theo would do this every time – get dismissive and almost confrontational.

"…I wanted to spend time with a friend that I haven't gotten to spend much time with," Harry measured his words. "Part of that is trying to catch up. I've noticed that you have not really been yourself lately and I just wanted to say that if there's anything I can do – "

Theo snorted derisively. "I'm fine," He reiterated. "And there's nothing you can do, regardless. So, are we spending time together or what?"

Harry stared at him for a moment before smiling tentatively. Just being a friend was the best he could do, right? "Of course! What do you think? Should we get some food? I'm a bit famished, personally – they didn't feed me anything when I got here! Bloody –"

"Oh my god, Daniel, it's Harry Potter! Grab Billy – hurry! Harry Potter, I can't tell you how _honored_ I am to meet you! This is Daniel, my husband – and here's are little Billy! You're his idol…"

"I'm going back to my seat," Theo declared, turning on a Sickle.

"N-no, wait! Theo!" Harry cried helplessly, sidestepping the toddler that was being held out to him and running after his friend. "We're getting something to eat, remember? Food? Bollocks…"

Theo was lost to the crowd before Harry could catch him. Fuck. That had been going tentatively well, too…

Harry looked up, frowning at the leaderboard in the middle of the lobby. Perhaps he could find his name on there…?

There were many names floating about, each gleaming and glittering with magic. Some names were charred, though. The losers, Harry supposed. Some names were brighter than others and some looked to be barely alive with any magic at all.

At last, Harry found his name, colored an intense gold. His name was one of the stationary ones, slotted in one spot as other names rose and fell around it. A name, almost black it was so dull, caught his eye. The name lagged through the air, wobbling like a bird with a broken wing. The name came to rest at last, under Harry's own name.

Marcus Flint.

Harry blinked. He blinked again.

Then, he laughed.

People around him were staring but Harry didn't care. _Flint_ was the other Hogwarts competitor in this tournament? How did he even get in?

It must have been the boy's father, Harry supposed.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Harry called out suddenly, spotting Marcus Flint around the other side of the leaderboard. The older boy stopped in his tracks. "Marcus! How are you doing, mate?! It looks like the two of us are dueling in the next round against each other!"

Poor Flint – it looked like he was about to faint, right by his father's side. Harry frowned.

"What's wrong, Marcus?" Harry asked, miming puzzlement as he walked towards the seventh year. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Flint was trembling. The boy would not look him in the eye. Ah, the feeling – pure bliss.

"I won't hurt you," Harry emphasized. "…Yet. It'll be just like old times, eh, Marcus? Cheers, mate."

Cheerfully, Harry patted the boy on the shoulder, savoring Marcus' whimper as he walked away. Harry hated feeling helpless. With Theo, he felt helpless. With Marcus, however…well, it was the exact opposite.

He may be pants at talking with Theo, but at least he knew that he had the next round of the tournament in the bag.

Harry stayed in the lobby for a bit longer, getting something light to eat and chatting with some of the less idiotic friends. He smiled easily and did not scowl when Minister Fudge came over to wrap his arm around him. Today, it seemed, everyone was in a good mood.

Harry looked lazily to the other side of the lobby before his eyes became alert, focusing in on a target. A woman with dark hair made a sushing motion with her finger before laughing silently, slipping through a door, and disappearing.

Harry looked back to Fudge, forcing a smile. Well, everyone was in a good mood…for now.

They probably would not be, soon. Bellatrix Lestrange was here.

* * *

**So! Did that get you all worked up? Ready for the next one, right? Fuck...I've got work to do. **

**Tommaso is the name of my former Latin teacher. He's Italian and one of the best fucking teachers I've ever had. Funny dude. Anyway, that's where the Italian name came from. Can you guess why he's at the dueling tournament?**

**Follow me on Twitter if you want at BrigadeEitD. Ask questions, send me silly stuff, whatever. **

**See you all soon.**

**Brigade**


	11. An Arduous Dilemma

**Ooooooooh it's me! It's me! It's D-D-P!**

**Well, okay. Not quite.**

**How are you all doing?! I've been busy as hell. I needed to take a step back from this story, too. There's so much that I've got planned, but I only have it planned in theory, you know? I needed to sort it all out, to define it all and let it rest for a bit. They always say that it's hard to spot mistakes in writing right after you've done it. Well, they were right in this case. I took some time and it helped a bit. **

**Plots are complicated. Or at least, those are the ones that I enjoy personally. I want mine to be complicated, but also logical and easy to follow. Does that make sense?**

**Anyway, it's been a while. I myself had to go back and reread some chapters to really remember the small bells and whistles I've put into the story so I could piece it all together. I think I did a decent job.**

**I'll stop rambling now. Enjoy**

* * *

**Chapter 11: An Arduous Dilemma**

"_Protego_! Arrrgh!"

The Irish wizard dove to the side into a nest of leafy foliage, frantically attempting to dodge the second spell. He landed roughly onto his left shoulder, but righted himself into a crouch, watching his adversary warily. Roots, however, suddenly sprung up all around him. They writhed and wrapped tightly around the boy's limbs, pulling taut and tying him to the rainforest floor.

"No! _Relashio_! _RELASHIO_!"

The wizard dove once more, popping up to his feet quickly to avoid a repeat performance with the roots. An offensive curse made its way to his lips, half-formed –

He ducked again as another wicked spell shot overhead. Yet another spell followed the first, forcing the boy to run.

The Irish wizard's body weight was causing all of his problems, Harry observed. The wizard, whose shoulder-length red hair was matted wetly to his forehead, was gasping for air. The boy was not fat by any means, but he was large and unnaturally muscular for a seventeen-year-old. There was no way that the wizard was used to that much mass yet, and that was working against him. His steps were too heavy. His upper body heaved with each hulking stride. Too much effort was going into dodging - and even then, his lateral quickness was nowhere near good enough to get any offense in. Harry watched casually from the front row, resting his head atop his folded arms that were propped against the retaining wall.

"_Protego_!"

Across from the Irish wizard was an Italian witch, calm and collected. The girl's eyes were narrowed in on her target as she shot off yet another nonverbal spell. She was tall and athletic; her black wand, Harry noticed, had a bit of a crook in it at the tip.

It was impressive, Harry thought. He had watched this Irish wizard reach the semifinals, bulldozing his way through the competition with brute force. But to see what this Irish witch had done to the seemingly unstoppable Irishman…she had the wizard in the proverbial Jelly-Legs Jinx. He simply could not muster any offense. The wizard could only hope to get a shield up in between raspy pants for air. Harry would have attacked the boy the same way, forcing him to move his substantial self; the Italian girl deserved credit.

Even in this tournament, nonverbal spell casting was a rarity. Harry's last opponent had used a few nonverbal spells. The only problem was that the spells were very tame. Harry supposed that the other boy had been using them as an attempt to freak him out. His opponents had had to do something, right? It was not like Harry had shown any weaknesses so far.

Harry smirked into his arms. _Fool_.

Still, this Irish witch could be trouble. She was _good_. Harry watched her, moving forward on her opponent with her black hair tied back, light on her feet as she prowled closer towards her Irish prey.

"_Digitesco_!"

'_Finally_,' Harry thought with amusement. The Irish wizard got a Finger Removing Hex in. The Italian batted it aside easily, though, following up with a Swarming Hex. The rustling sound overhead was surprisingly ominous as the leaves from the canopy of the rainforest shot down, seeking to suffocate the witch's opponent.

"_Flagratius_!"

There was desperation in that voice. Harry raised his eyebrows as the wizard slashed a line of flames from his wand, scorching the leaves and shooting through the air, straight at the suddenly alarmed witch. Fire enveloped her as she quickly produced a shield of her own. The grass and foliage around her caught fire, producing a substantial amount of smoke. The Irishman grinned and charged forward whilst the witch battled with the flames –

"_Glisseo_!"

"Bloody idiot_," _Harry muttered into his arms. _"_You finally had an advantage – why on earth would you give it back so easily?"

The rainforest floor turned to ice. The Irishman's expression morphed from glee to surprise as his feet slipped out from under him. He crashed mightily down to the rainforest floor, hitting his head on the way down.

The Italian appeared from the smoke, her hair free from ponytail, wildly surrounding her face. Her eyes were livid as she pursed her lips, snarling, pointing her black wand at the nearest tree.

"_REDUCTO_!"

Wood splintered and exploded in all directions. The crowd roared with surprise and fright; large pieces of wood hit the invisible barrier that contained the duels to the arena. Most of the wood fell innocently to the arena floor, but some wooden shrapnel struck the grounded, glassy-eyed Irish wizard. He didn't even flinch as the wood pierced the skin of his chest and arms. The tree itself, however, was tipped precariously, creaking as its limbs crashed into other trees atop the canopy. And suddenly the ominous rustling gave way to creaking, and then a rush of wind as the tree fell.

"_Reducto_!"

The witch hit the tree with the spell again, but with a less powerful version. The spell splintered the wood, creating a falling pile of wooden rubble. The bark continued to fall, burying the dazed wizard.

"_Accio_!"

The bark wriggled and shifted and suddenly a wand shot free of the pile, flying to rest in the Irish witch's hand.

"What a marvelous duel! Let them hear you, ladies and gentlemen! A superb display of magic! Healers are now rushing to tend Finn Aedan's injuries, but your winner for this duel is Earnesta Ruggero! And just like that, Ruggero will be heading to the finals!"

Harry clapped politely from his seat. A Healer had scurried over to the girl to check for any wounds but she shook the poor man off. Her eyes, however, found Harry's. Harry merely smirked, continuing to applaud.

"Alright, my boy! You're up again!" Minister Fudge had sidled up, beaming like a loon. He then frowned, wringing his bowler hat in his pudgy fingers. "It's not fair to have you fight two duels out of the last three. Why, I ought to do something about it! I'm the Minister, after all! I'll go have a word with – "

"Don't," Harry said easily. "It's fine. I've already gotten out of one duel so far, remember? Marcus Flint forfeited. Besides, there's a bit of an intermission before I have to duel -."

One of the event organizers had told Harry about the intermission after his last duel against a German witch. He would have thirty minutes before his duel with the Italian witch.

He was certainly looking forward to it, though.

"I can't believe it – you really are something, Harry," Fudge chuckled merrily. "I had no idea that you were so talented! No one's even touched you so far! It's amazing!"

Harry gave the Minister an indulgent smile. "Well, sir, I've worked very hard. I listen to my teachers and Hogwarts and I've even asked Professor Dumbledore questions. I told you that I'd have a few tricks up my sleeve, didn't I?"

"You did indeed, my boy! It's been an honor to watch you duel – and it's benefited my campaign so much, let me tell you!"

Harry hid a grimace, smiling instead and standing up.

"I'm going to go say hello to my godfather before the finals," Harry decided, patting Fudge on the shoulder. "We'll talk later, yeah?"

Harry did not bother waiting for a response. He wiped his hand on his pant leg as he left the stands. Fudge's glee at the outcome of the tournament so far was an oily, disgusting thing. Pure greed and selfishness was all that motivated the current Minister of Magic. Harry did not like it one bit.

The more Harry saw of the Ministry and people like Fudge, the more he agreed with Voldemort's opinions on how the Wizarding World was being guided. Radical changes were needed. The Ministry as a whole needed to be stripped of all the corruption. Personal vendettas and agendas did society no favors.

And of course, radical changes could only be made after ripping control from those that dearly clung to it. How Voldemort decided to do that…well, that remained to be seen. Harry certainly had a few ideas.

Harry sidled out into the corridor, deftly moving between the crowds of witches and wizards. He would have to walk nearly the entire way around the arena to get to his friends. The long walk gave Harry a chance to people-watch. Witches and wizards were always interesting to watch; they all dressed in different colors, different styles. Clothing was much more unique in the Wizarding World and it was something that Harry did not see a lot of at Hogwarts. It interested him.

Harry's eyes flickered to the right as he noticed a familiar face. The greying-brown hair of Cantankerous Nott swept to the side as the man strode swiftly down the corridor in the opposite direction of Harry, a grave and panicked expression on his face. Harry frowned, moving closer to get a good look at the man. Harry's eyebrows rose sharply.

Behind Cantankerous Nott was Theo, striding hastily to keep up with his father's longer strides. Cantankerous Nott had a vice grip on his son's wrist, leading the boy violently. Harry ducked into the crowd as they passed before switching direction to follow the father and son.

Cantankerous Nott took a right down an adjacent hallway before throwing a wild, furtive glance around the corridor. Quickly, he dragged his son into a deserted room on the opposite side of the hall. Harry Disillusioned himself hastily before approaching the door.

"_Auditare Occulte_," Harry whispered. The words of the Nott's rung clearly through the door.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Theo spoke first, a coldness to his words that made Harry frown. He knew that Theo and his father did not exactly get along, but to hear that much derision in Theo's tone surprised Harry.

"For the same reason I have done everything these past few months, Theodore. To prepare you. To warn you. To shape you into the man this family needs."

"Yeah? Well get on with it. I want to watch Harry's duel."

"There will be time for that. I need to warn you, Theodore. I need you prepared for what is to come."

"Did I stutter? I don't exactly enjoy hearing you talk, father. Get on with it."

"…You will not speak to your patriarch that way, Theodore."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The sarcasm and pain in Theo's voice was alarming. "I'm sorry, but after everything you've done to me, I find it hard to give a shit!"

Harry's eyes bulged. What did that mean? What had happened to Theo? What did Cantankerous Nott do to him?

"…You'll certainly care after I tell you this, Theodore. I needed to get you away from the crowds. I brought you in here to warn you: He's here."

"Who?"

"_Him_."

"Him? Who's – _ah_."

"Yes, exactly. As I said, this is the moment for which I have prepared you. Today is the day that you will face your future."

"If you call what you did _preparing_…"

"I would call it many things, Theodore. I'd call it love, for starters – "

"And I'd call it hatred, you daft buffoon!"

"Theo."

"And I hate you, too. You know that, right? I _hate_ you."

Harry's fingers twitched on the knob of the door. The ire and desperation in Theo's voice almost forced Harry to act impulsively…but no. Harry needed to hear this. He had to know what was happening. The Dark Lord was here. Voldemort. Why? Why had the Dark Lord not told him what was happening? First Bellatrix, now Voldemort himself? What was going on?!

Voldemort would not be here on a social visit, Harry was certain. He would not bring Bellatrix and potentially even more of his Azkaban-hardened Death Eaters, either, unless…

"…You will thank me one day, Theodore. And on that day, I will embrace you as any father longs to embrace his son. We will be amongst the Lord's most faithful and trusted. It all comes down to you, Theo. Our family's fate is at stake. _Your_ family's fate is at stake."

Harry heard footsteps and he threw himself to the side, pinning his body flat against the wall. Under the Disillusionment, he was safe so long as he did not make a move. Theo's father emerged seconds after, walking away from the room and his son without a care. All Harry could feel was hatred; how…what had this man done to his friend? What was wrong with Theo?

The silence in the corridor allowed Harry to relax a bit. Theo was still in that room, making absolutely no noise. Harry could only imagine the pain that his friend was in – and he had no idea what was happening. What did Theo's father _do_?

Harry could only remember the night Voldemort revealed himself to his followers. Cantankerous Nott had writhed in his own filth, a naked and pathetic mess, begging for forgiveness. Now? Now he had done something to hurt Harry's friend so severely that Theo was not even acting like himself.

An angered scream made Harry flinch violently. His instincts were to run into the room and console Theo, but the crash of _something_ in the room stopped him. Harry hesitated. Theo was hurting…but Voldemort was _here_. The Death Eaters were here. Something big was about to happen, and Voldemort had consciously left Harry out of it.

Harry needed to get to Sirius. He needed to warn them all not to interfere. He needed to tell his godfather so that Sirius could protect Harry's friends.

Harry gritted his teeth, longingly looking at the doorway where it seemed Theo had decided to break everything in the damn room. Why had Voldemort not _told_ him?! He needed to know this type of shit! If Voldemort had told Harry of his plans, Harry could have taken the time to comfort Theo. Not now. The next duel was in fifteen minutes. He had to be at the arena floor in ten.

Harry had to go. He snuck away, cringing as Theo broke something in a decidedly violent manner if the sound was any indication. Harry hoped he was making the right decision.

* * *

Oh, it definitely was the right decision. Harry had seen two more Death Eaters in the hallways. One was a Death Eater that had never been captured. Harry remembered seeing the witch during Voldemort's meeting. The other, however, was none other than Augustus Rookwood. The man had smirked slightly at Harry and winked before disappearing once more into the crowd. It made Harry even surer – something substantial was about to happen.

"Harry!"

"Hey, guys," Harry forced a smile. "I wanted to drop by and say hi before this last match. Where's uh…where's Theo?"

Harry had to ask. Maybe his friends knew something that Harry did not? Blaise frowned, glancing at Draco. Draco shrugged.

"His father was looking for him. He showed up and told Theo to go with him," Draco said.

"Weird bloke," Sirius butted in. "Very…"

"Proper," Remus supplied.

"Oh," was all Harry could say. He blinked, coughed, and addressed his godfather. "So, er…Sirius. Can I talk to you for a moment? In private?"

He ignored the looks he received. Sirius put a hand on Remus' shoulder and heaved himself to his feet.

"Sure," Sirius chirped. He glared at his leg, though. "Finding a place will be a bit tough, but we'll manage!"

"Great," Harry said, relieved. "Gotta go, guys. See you all after the duel!"

"See ya, Harry!"

"Good luck!"

"Italy blows!"

"Fred!"

"I mean go Harry!"

Harry could not help rolling his eyes fondly. He followed Sirius out of the stands with a hand hovering behind his godfather's back. Just in case. Harry still had not gotten to helping his godfather with his leg and that was next on his list of things to do. Behind Theo's dilemma, whatever it was. Behind whatever the hell Voldemort was getting up to now.

God, his life was so fucking weird.

"So, what's up?"

Sirius had led Harry to a small, empty area near the Ministry lifts. It was dark; the lights were off and the elevators were shut off in favor of allowing spectators to enter by way of the Floo Network. Harry smiled grimly at his godfather.

"I saw Bellatrix Lestrange earlier today," Harry began. Sirius' eyes bugged out as he looked around jerkily. "She was…just blending in with the crowd. Not doing anything. I mean, she wouldn't just be here to watch, would she? It threw me off, but I didn't think too much of it until I saw Cantankerous Nott and Augustus Rookwood a few minutes ago. And then I overheard Nott…Sirius, the Dark Lord is here. I don't know why and I don't know how, but something _big_ is going on and I'm scared because I don't know what it is."

"Did…did he tell you anything?" Sirius whispered. Harry hated the look Sirius was giving him. It was the epitome of sadness and regret. Sirius looked like a puppy with its tail between its legs and Harry _knew_ all the things Sirius wanted to say, how Harry should not even be involved with Voldemort and the Death Eaters…

Harry set his jaw. "No. And it worries me. I just wanted…I just needed to tell you. To tell somebody. Sirius…please protect my friends. And whatever you do, don't get involved. Don't let Remus get involved. Keep Fred and George and Cedric out of it. I doubt my Slytherin friends will dare to do anything, but it's – it's important to me, Sirius. _Please_."

Sirius frowned harshly. "Calm down, kiddo. It'll be okay, alright? I'll take care of everything. I just wish that you…that he – "

"I know," Harry cut him off with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's all so…complicated. I have friends on both sides and I know where I personally stand on it all, but…"

"But it's never as easy as what _you_ want. If it were, you would have nothing to be afraid of," Sirius finished. A hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Harry, when this is all over, we're going to talk," Sirius muttered softly. "You've never - never had anyone to talk to, but I'm here, now. I'm here, okay? I'm not going to stop you from having the opinions you have, but you're too young to have to depend on yourself. Let me help."

Sirius' eyes were shining, even in the darkened corridor. Harry strained a smile. Sirius was not making fun of his age. He was just trying to help.

"Good," And it certainly was, considering how relieved Sirius looked. "How are you doing? We'll just leave it at that. Think you can take this Italian witch out?"

"…She's brilliant," Harry said, letting the topic change without protest. He really did not know what else to say, anyway. "But I've not seen her do anything truly powerful. Great strategist, though. I'll probably have to break some new stuff out, but I think I can win."

Sirius laughed quietly. "She's more than brilliant, Harry. She's fantastic. And it's hilarious, the confidence you have. I have confidence in you too, you know. I know you can win…but if you don't, it's okay. Has anyone ever told you that? That it's okay if you fail? I'll love you either way. I'm proud of you, either way."

Harry blinked rapidly. "Come on, Sirius, you know I'm not good at this emotional stuff – "

"But you should be!"

Sirius' cane clanked to the floor and two hands gripped Harry tightly. "Listen, Harry! You're father and mother were my best friends. They were kind and gentle and caring and they would have given you the world given the chance! I grew up in an environment so much like your own. No one loved me. Not really. I was a son, but not a _son_. My brother Regulus was the only one I was actually close to, and that changed as soon as I went to Hogwarts. Remus, James, Lily – they were my family. They made me feel human! They made me feel like I deserved to be loved! And your childhood was so rotten and a disgrace…it makes me feel sick, how alone you were. But you deserve the same, Harry! Let me be that for you!"

Harry ducked his head. He could not face that much…that much everything. Sirius drew him into a hug and Harry could not quite find it in himself to resist.

It made Harry think. For so long he had hated Muggles and everyone who had tormented him. He had hated how alone he was, but no one was worthy of being around him. And then the whole magic thing had happened and now he had so many friends. Did he love them more than he hated everything else?

Harry looked into Sirius' pleading eyes. Yes. Yes he did. What that revelation meant, he had no clue.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said thickly. His godfather nodded shakily.

"That's all I needed to say," Sirius wiped at an eye as he reached for his cane. Harry held a hand out for his godfather to use for leverage.

"You'll…you'll have to tell me about them. My parents."

Sirius looked up, a bright smile on his face.

"Anything you want to know," Sirius vowed. "I'll protect your friends the best that I can. Good luck, Harry. Be careful."

* * *

"Ladies and gentleman, we've reached the final round of the junior tournament! These two duelists have made quick work of their opponents on their way to the finals. If you are just now making your way into the stands, sixteen-year-old Earnesta Ruggero from Italy waltzed her way to the finals, winning in the last round after disarming Irish wizard Finn Aedan!

"Our other finalist is none other than the one and only, Britain's hero…Harry Potter!"

Harry stepped out to raucous cheers. It surprised him; for all his other duels, the stands had been only fractionally filled. Now, there was not an empty seat in the house. Harry supposed it was for the adult's division, set to begin moments after this duel. Either way, the ovation tickled him.

Harry squared his shoulders and walked to the middle of the arena. The Italian was already sizing him up.

"Harry Potter has proven himself quite the prodigious duelist today, ladies and gentleman. Not only has the youngest competitor won every match, he has yet to be hit by a spell! Can his streak continue against the strongest competitor he's faced so far?"

"The rules are the same as they have been all afternoon," the official declared, eyeing both of them severely. "No Dark curses, no spells deemed illegal by the European Board of Magic. Seeing as this is the final match, these rules will be enforced most stringently. When in doubt, listen to my commands. If I call for a break, you will obey. Understood?"

Harry nodded. The Italian did not move.

"Very well. Back to back. Pace on my count. Come on, then."

Harry did as he was told. The commentator had gone silent and now the crowd cheered loudly. Harry could not help but hear the chant –

"HAR-RY! HAR-RY! HAR-RY!"

A Spanish football chant had started as well. Harry shuddered for a moment, but blocked it all out. He wanted to win this match and he wanted to do it quickly. He would not hold back; he would not toy with the witch at all.

And then, he could turn his attention to what Voldemort was up to.

"Aaaaand…DUEL!"

Harry whirled on the spot, charging through the swampy muck. He ducked a spell and dodging behind a tree. Just as Harry spun away from his cover, intent to get behind his opponent…she _screamed_.

Light flared, blindingly white. Harry could hear multiple screams, now. The screams of the spectators broke through whatever enchantments had encompassed the stadium. When the light finally dimmed, Harry saw his opponent, limp against the retaining wall of the arena. Blood trickled from her hair, down into her closed eyes.

Harry looked around wildly. His wand shot out of his hand.

"Wha – "

"Harry. _Potter_."

Harry jumped, swirling around and jumping once more.

Voldemort stood behind him, darkness crackling menacingly around him.

Harry gaped, in shock. What was happening?! Voldemort stood before him, murder on his face. What…how?

"I have awaited this day for nearly a decade," Voldemort snarled. His voice carried far further than it should. "I have returned! And how nice it was of you, Harry Potter, to offer yourself up to my glory on such a public stage. My loyal Death Eaters are guarding the arena. They have successfully blocked anyone from entering the arena to help you. You are…alone."

"What…what's going on? What is happening?!"

Voldemort smirked malevolently. "At long last. Today is a day that will go down in history. It is the day that Lord Voldemort returns. Not only that, Harry Potter, but it is the day that the Wizarding World's hero ceases to exist."

Voldemort stalked forward and Harry hastily backtracked. Magic crackled in the air between them.

"Today," Voldemort said softly, even as his voice rung out through the air. "Today, Harry Potter, you _die_."

* * *

**...Well how about that shit? I'll have more on how exactly the Death Eaters accomplished what they did in the next chapter. Evil overlords do love to tell you all about their plans, after all.**

**What do you think? What happened? Things were going swimmingly! What changed?**

**You can follow me on Twitter at BrigadeEitD if you'd like. I'll do a better job posting teasers and fun stuff. Leave a review, if you'd like - I certainly won't stop you!**

**Brigade**


	12. Dueling the Devil

**Back with another chapter. Beware, folks! Harry vs. Voldemort II is on its way!**

**The chapter's a bit short, but it needed to be. The next chapter will have a lot of answers and will give you an idea of what's next. For now? Now, we get the conclusion of this fine dueling tournament. Buckle up, Harry.**

**I asked you last chapter if you thought you knew what Voldemort was up to. This chapter should at least clear it up a smidgen. **

**Great guesses!**

**Follow the story on Twitter at BrigadeEitD if you wish. If you don't, cool. As always, if you have questions, feel free to ask! **

**And most importantly...enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Dueling the Devil**

"No place to run. No place to hide. No more tricks, no more dumb luck," Voldemort spoke softly. "Today, we test the powers of Harry Potter against the most powerful wizard to ever walk the earth…Lord Voldemort."

Harry heard the gasps of the crowd and the worried muttering. Harry wished he could look around at them all, to see their varied expressions for himself, but instead he was drawn to Voldemort's angered gaze.

Despite looking for some sort of sign from the Dark Lord, there was still nothing. Harry himself was growing increasingly worried; he would have assumed that Voldemort would have given him a clue by now if this were some sort of plot. Some type of subtle sign – a wink, a grin..._something_. And if this was in fact a ruse, Voldemort was not going to say anything to dispel Harry's anxiousness. Harry backed up slowly as Voldemort approached.

"You all are fools for ever doubting me," Voldemort declared, his clear voice ringing throughout the arena. "Did you all truly believe that a mere toddler could vanquish me? Me, the Dark Lord Voldemort? What a lovely, romantic thought – it's _sickening_.

"That is not to say that Harry Potter here did not do damage to me - he most certainly did. Lord Voldemort is not above giving credit where it is due. I was forced to flee, to recover my strength…but that is in the past. Was it luck, that night? Skill? Power that I had not foreseen? You will have your chance in moments to prove your worth, Potter; we shall see how long you live."

Voldemort was looking at him with such…such rage. It was unsettling to Harry. He still was not scared, exactly, but with each passing moment Harry felt less sure that this was an act on Voldemort's part. What could have possibly happened to cause this?

"Your cowardice was your downfall," Voldemort's voice rang out once more. "The Wizarding World of Britain has long lived under a cloak of ignorance and incompetence. It was I that released all of my followers from Azkaban prison and your Minister was only too kind to bury his head in the sand. Cornelius Fudge, you are most gracious and I thank you – I shall make your death swift and mostly painless."

The arena was rumbling with panicked murmurs. Voldemort suddenly began to laugh maniacally.

"I'm sure you're all aware of the helplessness of your situations," Voldemort drawled with malicious mirth. "Thanks again to your Ministry's complete lack of ability, my faithful Death Eaters were able to lay curses on this entire arena. Each of you is tethered to your seats by your own magic. Spell casting is impossible. Movement is impossible. You are all helpless - bound by my will."

Voldemort's sinister smirk was more unsettling still. "All it took was a blind eye and several Compulsory Charms. But fret not! I have no desire to kill you…most of you, that is. The time for negotiations is long past. Perhaps this will finally open your eyes. Your Ministry was no match for the might of Lord Voldemort. It is time for change, witches and wizards of Britain. And that change starts now…_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

Harry's heart fluttered and his eyes shot wide open. The green spell sizzled through the air straight toward him. Harry leapt to the side with an urgency he had never felt before. Pain shot down Harry's right hamstring before his body made could make contact with the still-swampy arena floor. Harry rolled upright and reached for the back of his leg. A second spell ripped through his trousers, shredding through the flesh of his leg. Blood seeped down the back of Harry's knee.

He had very little time to assess the situation – another spell was rifling towards him. Harry ducked, used his right hand to draw his legs underneath him, and summoned a defensive shield. Voldemort paused for a moment, eyeing him with a crooked leer.

"Very good, Harry. Very good," Voldemort cheered mockingly. "Impressive reflexes and the instincts of a natural duelist. A textbook shield that would impress any of your Hogwarts professors, as well…how does it feel to have no hope, Harry? No one's coming to save you. You're alone to fight the strongest wizard alive and no one is going to assist you. Those shields are worth _nothing_!"

Voldemort growled the last word and swiped his left hand viciously towards Harry. Pure magic crashed into the shield and it was gone before Harry could even blink.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

* * *

"Harry needs help! He needs us! Professor! We have to do something!"

"There's not much we can do, Cedric," Remus admitted after a terse pause. His worried gaze flickered to Sirius.

"B-but – ?!"

"Voldemort's got us, Cedric," Sirius muttered. "You can feel it, right? He wasn't kidding. We're stuck like this. He got what he wanted."

It was true. There was a weird sensation tingling up Sirius' spine. It felt almost as if his muscles were stiff and pulled tautly towards his seat. It was the magic of whatever spell Voldemort had come up with and Sirius felt as if he were tethered to a post. He did not even dare try to cast a spell. They were all helpless. Sirius could only purse his lips and gaze out in muted horror as Voldemort fired spell after murderous spell at his godson.

Remus was right. What could they do? Harry had warned him that he thought Voldemort was up to something…but this? Harry's words had been worrisome, but this…this was beyond anything Sirius could have ever imagined.

Was the Ministry truly as incompetent as Voldemort had claimed, to allow usurpers to sabotage an international event without any resistance?

Images of Azkaban fluttered through Sirius' mind and he resisted the temptation to snort. Of course they were. And was that not the saddest thing?

"There's nothing to do. Voldemort got us this time," Sirius muttered quietly, reiterating the point. He would just have to trust Harry and do what his godson had asked of him. He would protect Harry's friends. Cedric Diggory was the most outspoken of the group so far and probably the one in the most danger. The poor boy was trying his mightiest to stand from his seat. The Weasley boys were experiencing shock, it seemed. They could do nothing but watch.

Sirius' gaze slipped from the impromptu duel towards the Slytherin boys. Blaise Zabini was watching the fight intensely, one hand clasped atop the other in front of his mouth. His expression betrayed no feelings other than a sense of anticipation. The Malfoy boy was gaping slightly. Harry was making a comeback, now, shielding himself from Voldemort's relentless barrage and answering with his own offensive spells. Malfoy's eyes watched the fight, enraptured.

Sirius had not expected that. Did Harry tell the boy about his deal with Voldemort?

The third boy…Theo. Theo Nott was not watching like the other boys. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flexed and lip quivering minutely. Where Zabini was watching with anticipation and Malfoy with interest, Nott was watching with unmasked fear.

Harry had said something was wrong with the boy; Sirius agreed wholeheartedly. For a boy whose father was a Death Eater, Theo Nott should have nothing to be afraid of – at least not to this degree.

"We need to help him," Remus whispered lowly. Sirius' best friend's eyes were strained and his watching the fight in terror. "We've _got_ to help him, Padfoot."

Sirius put a gentle hand on Remus' back. "What can we do, Moony? This is the Ministry's fault that we're stuck like this. Can you think of anything?"

Remus' brow furrowed. "No. I don't even know what they did. He didn't specify. I'd wager that they used some sort of runic empowerment – I can't think of anything else that would spread a curse this wide."

"…Harry's doing well, isn't he?" Sirius sighed helplessly, scratching at the nape of his neck and ruffling his hair. He hated that Harry was in so deep, but he could not ignore the stirrings of pride that he felt, watching Harry duel with such ferocity. James would be so proud, too.

Remus choked on a miserable laugh. "For a kid who's going to die if we continue to sit here doing nothing? Yeah, he's doing wonderfully."

Sirius frowned. "He'll get through this, Remus. I know he will."

"He's going to be dead if we don't do something - !"

"No he won't," Sirius said forcefully. Harry's friends all swiveled to look at him. "He will win this! He just has to hold him off until help comes. He can do this!"

The silence that reigned was as uncomfortable as any Sirius could remember. He sighed wearily once more, looking over his neck for a moment towards the Death Eater standing guard over their section. Behind black robes and a silver cape, Sirius could make out long, blonde hair.

Lucius Malfoy was standing over their area of the stands. Malfoy was standing with his arms crossed calmly, staring straight back at Sirius. Sirius looked over to Draco Malfoy; the boy had turned from the duel to watch his own father, and then to look at Sirius. They both knew, and Sirius could hardly count Lucius Malfoy's presence as mere circumstance. There was a good chance that Voldemort had done that intentionally in planning whatever scheme this was. Sirius could not help but remember what the Dark Lord had said to him in his…captivity at Voldemort's manor.

Harry would be safe. He just had to be.

* * *

"_Avada Kedavra_! Come, Harry! We can do this all afternoon if we must! _Avada Kedavra_!"

The tree that Harry had been hiding behind exploded violently and he wanted to kick something in frustration. And he would have, if not for two things. Firstly, his leg was screaming murder at him, so kicking of any kind would be counterproductive.

The other problem?

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

That.

Harry rolled through the muck of the marshy undergrowth, dodging yet another lethal spell. What the fuck was Voldemort playing at? Harry could understand using the Cruciatus or some Cutting Curses or something; those spells were strong enough to horrify an audience, but not enough to actually kill someone who was supposed to be your bloody ally. But no…logic seemed to be irrelevant. Voldemort was holding nothing back. Why on earth would you use a genuinely lethal curse for a false duel?

Was it safe to assume that this was real? Harry ducked another Killing Curse, but clumsily so. He was forced to use his left leg to propel him away from the curse. He could not trust his injured right leg, at the moment. Killing Curses were not exactly the time to have a leg give out on you.

Wait.

Harry's mind stalled on him. He blinked dumbly for just a moment. Voldemort…his leg…the jade. The jade! The Jade of Future Knowledge! This was it! This is what he had seen in his vision! The environment, Voldemort's words and curse selection…even his robes! It all fit!

This had to be it. Right?

Harry's eyes widened, dropping his body flat to the ground as another Killing Curse flew overhead. Harry's realization did nothing to fix his current situation – hell, it did not even help Harry decipher the realness of the current duel - but it was so much better than it could have been. When Harry had watched that vision, he had been so _sure_ Voldemort would betray him.

Now…well, at least it was ambiguous. Either way, Harry was not exactly pleased with Voldemort's actions. The vital thing, however, was that he could change what he saw. He did not have to retaliate with a lethal spell of his own.

But Harry had been on the defensive for far too long. It was time to turn the tables.

"_Confringo_!" Harry yelled, sidestepping another spell from Voldemort. The Dark Lord batted Harry's Blasting Curse aside with ease. He did, however, stop his spell casting momentarily.

"There we are, Harry Potter," Voldemort spoke softly. "Still life in you yet, I see. Perhaps now you'll flight like the hero these people believe you to be?"

Harry glared at him. He hoped Voldemort could see how pissed he truly was. Voldemort would be getting more than an earful after this, if it truly was a ploy.

"Not a hero," Harry growled, straightening his wounded leg with difficulty. "No. What I am is a person who's had _enough_."

Voldemort cocked his head, smiling sinisterly. "Ah…but we're just getting started, Potter. Of course, you could end this all now if you so desired. All you have to do is bow to me on bended knee. Wouldn't be easier, Potter? You know this world is flawed. Anyone with eyes can see it. The world of magic is falling apart. How much easier would it be to join me? To right all of those wrongs?"

Harry looked at the Dark Lord strangely. What answer did Voldemort fucking want?

'_Fuck this_,' Harry scowled, lowering into a crouch. '_He deserves to be hurt anyway_.'

"Yeah, the world has its problems…but how about you stuff it, Voldemort. _Expulso_!"

Harry put as much power into the curse as he could. He aimed at the soil in front of Voldemort and the marshy mix of soil and water exploded with the blue light of the spell. Harry used the distraction to attack in earnest at long last.

"_Avem Telo_!"

Harry's spell transfigured a large, hawkish bird from the leaves around him. With a gesture, the hawk soared after Voldemort. Its talons grew longer and sharper; Harry almost wanted to cringe at how violent they appeared.

But he had much more work to do beyond making a silly bird.

"_Acta Fumurus_!"

Thick, blackened smoke shot out from Harry's wand. Harry could smell the charred, acrid scent of the fumes. He swished after it before the stuff could get into his eyes, propelling the smoke to encompass a distracted Dark Lord. Harry used this opportunity to disappear on the spot.

Voldemort snarled, slicing the poor hawk in half after it tore through the flesh of his forearm. Harry watched as the Dark Lord twirled his wand overhead, around his left shoulder and down across body as if he was drawing a sword. The smoke swirled away from him by pure magic, leaving Voldemort standing as if he were within the eye of a hurricane. Red eyes swept around the area, searching for his opponent.

Harry smirked savagely; most likely, Voldemort would not see an attack from above coming. Here was Harry's chance. No one spell would take the Dark Lord down, but a surprise attack might.

Harry did not utter a spell. Honestly, he did not even have one for the effect that he had planned. The spell to accompany said affect, however? He did have an incantation for that one, but for any chance of success, he would need to cast it nonverbally.

'Thanks, Sykes,' Harry thought, gritting his teeth. Harry directed the spell to the ground several meters behind Voldemort. And then…fire.

Pure fire. Harry hung in the air, directing a secondary blast of magic at the back of Voldemort's neck. The fire was not Fiendfyre – a Dark spell in front of all these people would be downright idiotic – but it was hot and it was scorching the air around Voldemort as the Dark Lord's eyes shot open with surprise.

He sprung backwards, combating the fire with conjured water. The fire hissed and steamed, boiling the air around them. Harry kept the magic coming, watching as Voldemort toed closer and closer to the bomb behind him…

Voldemort would notice it. He had in their first duel as well. It would take another surprise to even land a hit on the other man. Still, Harry kept the fire coming, floating closer and closer to the Dark Lord. The steam surrounding them was growing thicker. Perhaps Harry would be able to use it as cover once more…

Harry watched Voldemort's face carefully. He noticed the exact moment that Voldemort sensed the bomb behind him. The Dark Lord's eyebrows shot upwards and his concentration wavered for just a moment – but not long enough for Harry to strike. And that was okay. It would be the moment _after_ Voldemort made a move that would make or break Harry's ambush…

Voldemort sneered in the face of the fire, spinning on his heels. He used his free hand to continue to direct the fire away from his body. With his wand hand, Voldemort went to work on dispelling Harry's bomb.

"_Expulso_! _Expulso_! _Oppugno_!"

Harry shouted it loudly. Only a fool would shout his spells at this point and Harry counted on Voldemort thinking the same. Harry splintered the trees nearest him and the bark-turned-projectiles shot after the Dark Lord. Now, the Dark Lord had four things to deal with: a bomb, fire, steam, and now fragmented wood.

Harry planned to make it five. Voldemort countered Harry's land mine with haste, dispelling the last of the fire at the same time. An urgent shield caught most of the wooden shrapnel and Voldemort turned violently, rage and murder written on his face.

Unfortunately, Harry was not where he expected him to be.

Harry had moved once more under his smoky cloak. He now was crouched in the muck, mere meters behind Voldemort. Harry used a Dark spell this time, but used it nonverbally. He could not help it; Dark spells were so much harder to counter.

Severus Snape would be proud. Harry watched with satisfaction as the spell did what it was meant to do. Blood spurted forcefully from the wound that tore Voldemort open. The Dark Lord's robes split open from his right shoulder to his hip as the gory mess flowed freely. Voldemort looked up in outrage, a silent gasp on his lips.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry watched in fascination as the force of the spell threw Voldemort through the air, flipping once, twice, before falling into a heap. Voldemort's wand fell feet away from him. Harry stepped forward tentatively.

"Enough…enough. ENOUGH!"

Voldemort was pushing himself up with his arms, face still directed to the ground. Harry slowed his steps, readying himself for more –

Magic ripped him off his feet. Harry looked wildly for the turf as he somersaulted through the air. He found it right before he hit it shoulder first.

"Fuck!" Harry grasped his left shoulder immediately. He had felt a great pinch in his shoulder as he landed and now…nothing. He could not move it. Harry's fingers found a great lump –

A piece for wood had pierced his shoulder between the joint and his collar. Brilliant.

"YOU WILL NOT GET THE BEST OF ME, POTTER! I AM NOT FINISHED! I WILL DESTROY YOU!"

Harry rolled on his back with a grimace, ripping the chunk of wood from his body with his hand. Luckily, he did not feel a thing.

But Voldemort was back on his feet. Blood dripped from his eyebrow and oozed steadily all across the right side of his body. The Dark Lord looked positively gruesome.

"Looks like you are," Harry found the strength to laugh. He struggled to his feet. "Very well then. Let's go."

Voldemort's eyes widened in outrage. He fumed for a moment. Harry was ready for yet another Killing Curse…

Was Voldemort stalling?

"MY LORD! THE AURORS! THEY'VE BROKEN THROUGH!"

It was Travers. Harry kept his eyes trained on the Dark Lord, but Voldemort's gaze snapped towards the voice. Sure enough, Harry could hear the banging of doors from above.

Voldemort snarled in frustration. "Retreat! This is not the end, Potter! You've not seen the last of me!"

"No," Harry agreed softly. "It's just the beginning."

Voldemort roared in anger. In a flash, he was gone. The arena floor reverted back to its original appearance. Harry stared stupidly at the crowd for a moment as they lathered themselves into a panic.

Then, Harry sat.

He sat right there on the arena floor, cradling his left arm. He did not think much as Dumbledore, Fudge, and other high-ranking Ministry officials raced to his. All he could think of was the duel.

What the hell, Voldemort? What the hell?

* * *

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!"

"Harry, please!"

"Fudge! We have questions! The media has a right to know! The public has a right to know!"

"Mr. Potter, how does it feel to singlehandedly drive off the most powerful Dark Lord in decades?"

"Potter! Has Dumbledore been training you exclusively? How did you duel You-Know-Who to a standstill?!"

"Are you stronger than Dumbledore?"

"Keep your head down, Harry," Fudge muttered lowly. His voice was cracking mightily and the hand on Harry's shoulder trembled. The witch on Harry's left drew the hood of the cloak that the Aurors had draped him in further over his head to hide his face from the cameras. The light bulbs flashing dazed him slightly so Harry let his eyes drop to the floor. He clutched his left arm tighter to his side as he limped along.

"We're taking Harry to Saint Mungo's," Fudge called out. "Please give him space. I'll be back to answer questions momentarily. I'd like to take the time to ask you all to leave Harry alone until the time he is ready to speak to the public. A quick reminder for you all: Harry Potter is thirteen years old. He is a minor in the eyes of the Ministry. Taking advantage of the Boy-Who-Lived would be frowned upon. Make room, please."

"Here," The witch stuffed a handful of Floo Powder into Harry's hand. Harry looked up at the woman for a moment. She looked plain enough – Harry assumed she was an Auror or something. He took the Floo Powder without a word.

"Saint Mungo's Ministry Emergency," The woman told him. "We've Floo'd ahead. The Ministry-specialized Healers are waiting for you."

Harry ducked his head as a camera poked him in the cheek. Harry heard scuffling and muttered curses behind him followed by a high-pitched scream. Harry ignored it all, stepping up to the Floo and tossing the handful of Floo Powder into the fire. Stepping inside as the flames morphed to resemble glittering emeralds, Harry turned around. He would never forget the sight that met him.

It was absolute pandemonium. Cameras flashed, witches and wizards shouted wildly. The media continued to rifle questions at anyone who looked important. And everyone was watching him, unable to think or say anything of worth. Harry spotted Dumbledore pretty easily; the Headmaster of Hogwarts looked tired. Dumbledore smiled sadly at Harry when he caught his eyes. Harry saw Sirius and Remus as well. Exhausted, Harry quickly made sure his friends were all in one piece. He sighed wearily. They were all there.

Cedric seemed to be clutching his hair in shock, though.

"Fudge," Harry called out suddenly. The Minister jumped, almost in fright. Harry motioned to his friends and godfather.

"Let them through after me, alright?"

Fudge stared before nodding dumbly. Harry sighed.

"Imbecile," He whispered. "Saint Mungo's Ministry Emergency."

Harry's vision blurred as fireplaces raced past him. He closed his eyes, clutched his arm tighter, and tried not to vomit.

Voldemort had some explaining to do. He really, really had some explaining to do.

* * *

**A "hero" is born. Until next time.**

**Brigade**


	13. React, Reveal, Reward

**Hello! Are you all ready for a new chapter? **

**This chapter ties up all the loose ends of the previous few chapters. We hear from Fudge, Snape, Dumbledore, Voldemort...and Theo. That's right, folks; we finally get to learn what's wrong with Theo Nott.**

**What are you waiting for? Follow me on Twitter at BrigadeEitD if you want chapter updates. I posted my hand-written notes for this chapter a few days ago. If you don't want to, cool.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 13: React, Reveal, Reward**

**_Patient 24602: Harry James Potter_**

_\- Concussion_

_\- Fractured Clavicle (Left)_

_\- Dislocated Shoulder (Left)_

_\- Functional damage to Medial, Radial Nerves (Left Arm)_

_\- Bone Fragments in Right Leg_

_\- Torn Hamstring_

_\- Internal Bleeding_

_Healer's Notes: Patient has undergone treatment for all sustained ailments. Nerve damage treated with Ramus Restorative. Diagnostic spells determined full recovery of all sensations/muscle functions. Dislocated shoulder reset. Bone damage treated with minimum dosage Skele-Gro. Mixed salve of Dittany and grounded Hawthorn applied to muscular injuries. _

_Patient discharged into care of Poppy Pomfrey, Youth Healing Specialist, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Patient should be given directions to sleep/rest extensively for 5-7 days. Bones will experience soreness during this time. Right hamstring will experience tightness/weakness._

**_Healer Bradenburry_**

Harry cocked his head to the side, examining the little figure on the healing chart that Pomfrey was holding as she checked over him. The figure was supposed to be him, he supposed. There was a flashing red mark near the back of the figure's skull as well as near his neck. The red spot converged into a yellow spot at the figure's shoulder, and there was another yellow mark at the figure's right leg.

"Hold still, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed inaudibly, but straightened his head nonetheless. Pomfrey was trailing her wand around the back of his neck and down his shoulder and he resisted the urge to shuck it off. Harry had already had three healers fussing over him at Saint Mungo's. Did he really need another? He felt _fine_…now.

The candles mounted on the walls of the Hospital Wing flickered as a breeze shuffled through the long room. Harry huffed to himself. Really, these checkups were going on four hours, now. The Minister had kept his promise and gotten his friends through to Saint Mungo's. They were not allowed to stay for very long, but at least he had gotten a chance to say hello and assure them all that they were fine. It was probably for the best; after all, what does one say after dueling Lord Voldemort?

Remus had taken everyone back to Hogwarts. Of course, Sirius had stayed for a bit longer. And then Harry had been alone, left to suffer the poking and prodding of multiple people. At least Pomfrey was only one person.

The door to the hospital wing opened slowly and Madam Pomfrey's head snapped around to look. Severus Snape entered the room, giving her an odd look and raising his hands.

"I am here to check on Mr. Potter," He said slowly. "I am not harboring the press underneath my robes."

"Might as well be, as large as your robes are," Madam Pomfrey shot back. She looked down at the clipboard with a frown. "I cannot detect any further damage. How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?"

"Fine," Harry burst out. Honestly, any answer to get them all to leave him alone. "I feel great. Fit as a fiddle. Can I leave, now?"

"Ah, that would be the other reason I am here," Snape said, cutting Pomfrey off before she could scold Harry for even asking. "The Headmaster would like to speak with Harry before the night is through. I have been sent to collect him."

"Well, you'll collect him when I say you can collect him," Pomfrey replied tersely. She cast _another_ spell on Harry. Harry wanted so badly to smack her.

"…Very well," Pomfrey finally said with reluctance. "But rest, Mr. Potter! Sleep in tomorrow. No strenuous activity for several days. You'd probably benefit from doing some stretching over the course of the next few days. And most importantly, if you experience any pain or weakness, come see me immediately."

"Sure," Harry chirped, hopping off the bed and putting distance between himself and the Healer. If Pomfrey holding her hands on her hips were any indication, she was not amused.

"Severus, watch after him," Pomfrey pointed directly at Harry. Harry looked around wildly, as if another him could possibly be hiding. Harry heard Snape snort softly.

"Of course, Poppy. Come along, Mr. Potter."

Not one to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth, Harry dutifully followed his Head of House out of the hospital wing.

"I think that's enough Healers for one day," Harry sighed as they rounded the corner of the corridor. "Is it past curfew already?"

Indeed, no one was out wandering the halls. Harry had not bothered to even check the time. Snape nodded.

"It is twenty past ten," Snape supplied. Harry shrugged to himself.

"So, er," Harry muttered, casting a glance down a bisecting corridor. "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you? You weren't told - ?"

Snape sent him a significant look. "I was told nothing, Mr. Potter. No one mentioned a word to me."

Harry nodded in silence. That was what he thought. Snape had been busy all day and he was not a necessary piece in whatever wacky scheme Voldemort had concocted. If Voldemort would not say anything to Harry, why would he say anything to Snape?

It did not take long to reach the Headmaster's office. Harry shuffled his feet as Snape spoke the password to the large gargoyle standing guard. The gargoyle hopped aside and moments later, the two Slytherins stood in silence as the spiral staircase drew them up to Dumbledore's office. As they stepped out onto the landing, loud conversation leaked though the heavy oak door.

"This is the biggest mess of my career! I've had to deal with the press all afternoon, Dumbledore! They're like rabid nifflers, running wild in search for answers that we don't have! Don't they get that? We have nothing for them!"

"I quite understand, Cornelius. Why don't you sit down – "

"I mean, who could have seen this coming? You-Know-Who! Inside the Ministry! My Ministry!"

"…I did forewarn you of my suspicions, but I will admit that there was very little in the way of conclusive information. The attacks on Muggles were certainly troubling – "

"Bah! Muggles! Attacks on Muggles aren't anything, Dumbledore. Anyone could do 'em! But no, now we have You-Know-Who to deal with and I don't know what to do!"

"…Fudge is the absolute worst leader imaginable," Harry muttered lowly, casting a glance at Snape. The snippet of conversation that they had heard through the door was enough to inspire contempt in the Minister.

"He certainly is…something," The wrinkle of disgust upon Snape's expression spoke louder than his words. Snape appeared as if he scented something foul.

"He sure does make you feel better about it all, doesn't he? I mean, it's not like we could sit back and let this bloke ruin the country," Harry sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Even as frustrated as he was at Voldemort, the Dark Lord's lack of communication was a better problem to deal with than cowardice and sheer incompetence. Snape nodded slowly in agreement before reaching for the brass knocker and rapping it against the door.

"Come in!"

"Oh, Harry! Thank god!"

Harry followed Snape through the threshold of Dumbledore's office and immediately tensed. Fudge jumped out at him in an instant, putting frantic hands on Harry's shoulders.

"How are you doing, lad? Any scratches? Bruises? Those Healers had better have set you right! So help me, I'm the Minister…"

Fudge was clutching him tightly, scouring him with wide eyes. Harry patted his hand hastily. "I'm fine, Minister. It's fine. Really. Those Healers got me all fixed up. You can – you can let me go now."

Fudge let him go as if scalded, smiling apologetically. He then looked around the room fretfully.

"It is nice to see you in good health, Harry," Dumbledore said soothingly. "And it is even better that you are here now. Thank you for bringing him here, Severus."

The dismissal in Dumbledore's voice was clear as Fudge eyed Snape distrustfully. A sudden thought struck Harry. He blinked in confusion, looking from Dumbledore to Fudge to Snape and back. "Oh! Oh, it's okay, Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape can stay – I trust him. I'd prefer it, actually."

Dumbledore's eyes shone as Fudge sputtered. Harry continued to smile innocently. He thought he had a good grasp on the situation, now. Dumbledore certainly trusted Snape and may even prefer having him in this meeting as well. It was a natural thing, Harry thought, to want to share responsibility with someone else. Obviously, Fudge could not handle that responsibility. However, Dumbledore was willing to leave Snape out of the loop in order to placate the Minister of Magic. Fudge probably was not willing to see past the Dark Mark on Snape's forearm.

Harry's smile took a shaper edge. '_I'm not doing this for you, Dumbledore. This ought to benefit me more than it benefits you_.'

"Well then, gentlemen," Dumbledore beamed, swishing his wand. "Might we sit and discuss the issue?"

Harry watched as Dumbledore's wooden desk stretched and widened. A piece of parchment and a quill wriggled off opposite sides of the desk, falling to the floor and transfiguring themselves into large, plump chairs. Harry shrugged, taking the seat opposite Dumbledore. Snape followed his lead, sitting at Dumbledore's right hand.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore smiled again, taking a seat in his normal chair. "Now, Cornelius, as I was attempting to say moments ago – you must reach out to the public with the truth. Honesty is the best course of action open to you. Tell them the history of Voldemort. Implore them to realize the threat he poses to wizarding society."

"That will cause a frenzy, Dumbledore!" Harry had rolled his eyes when Fudge flinched at Voldemort's name. "The people will go crazy. We can't have that. We will need to control the message. The Ministry must maintain order – "

"And you will do so by appearing in control of the situation, Minister!" Dumbledore cried. "Order is established through leadership, not power. Citizens rebel against power; it is a defensive mechanism inherently found in all people. Speak the truth, Fudge, and nothing but. And then, provide solutions."

"Like what?"

"For starters – and this is gravely important," Dumbledore stressed, leaning forward. "You must remove the Dementors from Azkaban. You will not be able to control them any longer. Lord Voldemort will provide more to them than the Ministry can match."

"B-but the people!" Fudge blustered. Harry sighed inaudibly before leaning back into his chair. Why was he here, again? "The people only feel safe because the Dementors guard over our prison! If we take them away – if they're free to _roam_ – "

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "They already are free, Minister. The Dementors became free the moment Voldemort returned. Their continued presence in Azkaban is merely an illusion of obedience."

Fudge looked like the world was coming down all around him. Harry supposed it was, actually. Especially considering the made-up fantasy world Fudge had in mind where he was the pinnacle of power and control in the wizarding world.

"You must also reach out to the other magical civilizations," Dumbledore continued. "The werewolves. The vampires. Giants. These communities have been isolated to the corners of our society, Minister. Voldemort will promise them better. It would be an empty promise, but one that these societies may take him up on. Minister, you cannot afford for Lord Voldemort to gain alliances outside his own Death Eaters. They alone are enough to threaten the structure of our current government."

"G-giants!" Fudge yelped. "Merlin's beard, Dumbledore! You would have me reach out to…to those monstrous creatures in the mountains? And werewolves? The savage beasts – "

"Remus Lupin is a werewolf, Minister," Harry intervened with a bite to his voice. "He is a teacher here at Hogwarts and one of my best friends. I would appreciate you refraining from calling him a beast."

"I mean no offense, but Harry! Really!" Fudge pleaded with him. "I am sure Lupin is a good man, but not all werewolves are like him! They're savages – "

"And Britain has a very large population of werewolves, Fudge," Dumbledore said harshly. There was a fire in his eyes that Harry rarely ever saw. "We cannot afford them joining up with Voldemort. It is an unacceptable outcome."

Fudge was wringing his little bowler hat in his lap, shaking his head inaudibly.

"You must also purge the Ministry of all personnel with former ties to Death Eaters – "

"Now see here, Dumbledore!" Fudge exclaimed. "Many of those same people were exonerated of all crimes. They did nothing wrong. And many of them contribute heaps of gold to the Ministry! We cannot afford to give up such income – "

"Income matters not when a Dark Lord threatens our entire society, Fudge! This is what is at stake!"

Fudge crossed his arms, fuming. He sat there for a moment before bursting: "If you'd just give the boy to me…"

"No, Minister. This is off the table, as it always has been."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, looking between Fudge and Dumbledore. It was pretty obvious that they were talking about him, and that this was not the first time this conversation had come up. Harry looked over to Snape, who quickly rolled his eyes.

"He needs to help with the public perception – "

"- He needs only to continue learning," Dumbledore defended. "He is better off with the schedule he now possesses. I have been training him personally to stand up to the threats this world possesses. He deserves all the credit I can give for fighting Lord Voldemort off earlier. In regards to Harry, we must continue on the path already laid out for us."

"He shouldn't have to be a fighter, Dumbledore! He just needs to lead by smiling and telling the people that the Ministry will take care of it! He's thirteen!"

"And Lord Voldemort will not care about any of that, Minister! Voldemort proved today beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will relentlessly pursue Harry. Were you not just lamenting the unlucky fortune of having to react to Lord Voldemort's actions? I have laid out the steps you should take, Cornelius, and Harry should be left out of them for now."

Dumbledore sent Harry an apologetic look, sorry to even have to discuss the issue with Harry in the room. Harry waved him off before yawning widely.

"Blimey," Harry blinked, recovering from his fake yawn. "…Can I go to bed, now? I'm kind of tired, you know – fought a Dark Lord today. No big deal."

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Of course you can, Harry. Anything I have to say can wait. I just wanted to tell you how proud I was, today. You were quick on your feet and fought resiliently. James and Lily would have been so proud. I know Sirius and Remus were."

Harry forced a smile of his own. "Night, then." He nodded to Snape on his way out of the office. Professor Snape would tell him anything worth hearing later. He just could not sit through any more tonight.

* * *

Harry could not help but sigh in exhaustion as the wall to the Slytherin common room slid aside. The lazy darkness that was revealed soothed Harry's straining eyes. He had had enough for one day. Fudge was all worked up into a tither, Dumbledore was playing damage control, and Voldemort had apparently decided that telling Harry important things like the fact that he wanted to stage a fake duel in public was not all that important after all. That _was_ a staged duel, right? It had to be; that's all Harry could figure. Things went too smoothly for it to be anything otherwise. No Death Eaters were caught, no true damage was done…

God, he was so ready to flop onto his bed, grab a pillow, and go to bloody sleep…

Harry blinked, skidding to a silent stop. There was a single student sitting on the couch directly in front of the hearth. It was hard to tell who it was from Harry's vantage point, but the figure was leaning forward and staring straight into the fire. Were they having a Floo call? Harry snuck a bit closer.

"…Theo?"

Theo looked over his shoulder in vague surprise. He smiled slightly, though it did not look like he really meant it.

"…Hey," He said hoarsely.

Harry looked at him closely. Theo was sitting there in his pajamas. His back was arched slightly, indicating that the muscles in his back were far stiffer than could be comfortable. He also had his hands tightly clasped in front of his knees. "Why are you still awake? It's nearly midnight."

Theo merely looked back to the fire, saying nothing at all. Harry frowned harshly.

"You alright?"

"…No."

There was a lot of pain in that single word. And it was the first time that Theo had admitted as much; Harry jumped on the opportunity. He sat down on the leather couch to the left his friend. Harry sighed yet again as he sank back into the comfortable upholstery. He nudged his friend on the shoulder and watched as Theo tensed.

"Is there something I can do? Anything?"

Theo looked over suddenly, the fire in the hearth gleaming harshly in his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something that Harry was not sure he could even provide.

"What happened today?"

Ah, that was the question, was it not? Harry raised his eyebrows, helplessly shrugging a bit. "A whole bunch of shit, Theo. I'm not sure I even know what happened."

"You know more than you're saying," Theo countered instantly. "You always have."

Harry frowned again, looking at Theo. "Well, I don't know what's going on with you," He argued. "I mean, clearly something's going on and I want to help, but…"

He trailed off helplessly. What could he do if Theo would not even tell him what was wrong? Theo was back looking at the flickering flames. He snorted suddenly and dropped his head.

"…I overheard you and Draco a few weeks ago," Theo grimaced as he said it, as if he hated to even bring it up. "You two were alone, talking in the dorm room."

"Okay? We talk all the time. What was so impor – oh. _Oh_."

Harry recoiled as Theo through him a significant look. Harry almost squirmed at the look; he felt like a child that had been caught doing something naughty.

"You know, it always felt like you were hiding something. Sure, every Slytherin has something to hide and yeah, Dumbledore's bound to have taught you things…but it's always felt like more than that. And I was right. All this time. You've been on The Dark Lord's side this entire time…"

Harry urgently shushed him, wincing slightly as he threw a furtive glance back at the stairs leading down to the dorms. He tossed a warding charm at the stairs for good measure. "Well allow me to explain. I met Voldemort before our first year, but it wasn't until late in first year where I really started helping him. We have…we have similar beliefs, Theo. And he was willing to help me, too. It's been a mutual relationship."

"Then how do you defend what happened today?" Theo asked with desperation to his voice. His hands were still clenched tightly, perhaps even tighter that they had been before. Harry wished he had a better answer for Theo – hell, he wished he had a better answer for _himself_. Harry could only shrug.

"I had planned on asking him myself, tomorrow," Harry sighed. "Voldemort did not tell me anything in advance. If I had to give you a guess, I'd say that Voldemort was staging that duel. He must have wanted it to seem real. I doubt he was even trying to hurt me – "

"He was throwing Killing Curses at you!"

"Yeah, well…" Harry grimaced. "I mean, yeah, he was. But none of them ever hit me, did they? I was angry that he was even using them, too, but none of them hit me. And Voldemort's no slouch as a duelist, Theo. If he wanted to hit me with one, he'd probably be able to. Why are you flinching? That's the third time you've done it – you never used to flinch at Voldemort's name."

Sure enough, Theo twitched again. He growled roughly, scratching viciously at his brown hair. "I don't know."

Harry watched him for a moment. Theo was rocking his body in agitation. "You know, since we're both confessing things, I overheard you and your father earlier. You two snuck off to a secluded spot at the tournament and had a…talk."

Theo snapped to him, eyes wide. He looked searchingly for a moment.

"Then you already know it all, Harry," He said haggardly. "You know everything there is to know."

"No," Harry argued. "I know that whatever this is, it roots back to your father. What is he doing to you, Theo? He said something about preparing you for Vol- for the Dark Lord."

Theo was silent again. All Harry could do was wait. If Theo was going to tell him, needling would not help any. But whatever this was, it was serious. Theo had never been so tense. He had never been so nervous and agitated. It was like an invisible force was crushing him. Harry's friend was humorous and outgoing. This version of him was just not right.

And then, Theo seemed to make his mind up. His previously clasped hands shot off in search of his pockets. They were still clenched into fists. Abruptly, Theo smoothened out his dressing gown and stood. He untied the belt quickly and shucked off his undershirt. Harry stood, too, moving to stand where he could see him better in the firelight.

"…I don't get it," Harry muttered. Theo looked like he always did; his torso was fairly broad for a thirteen year old, and his stomach flat. There were no blemishes, no scars, nothing of note. Theo had bags under his eyes, sure, but that was all Harry could see that was wrong. Even then, Theo had had bags under his eyes for ages.

Theo grabbed his wand from the couch and stood, staring at it. He breathed deeply, looked Harry in the eye for a moment, and swept his wand over his collarbone and down to his rib cage.

It was then that Harry saw what was wrong. And horror slipped into his stomach like ice.

"What the _fuck_…"

There were holes everywhere. Little holes were gouged into Theo's skin. Shoulders. Neck. Breast. Ribs. _Everywhere_. Harry leaned in closer with wide eyes. The wounds were blackened and the skin around them was peeling. They were deep and festering. Pus and blood bubbled from several of the harsh lesions. It was like someone poured a corrosive acid onto Theo's skin.

"What did this," Harry cried, aghast. "Who? Your father -?"

"Yeah," Theo croaked. His voice fluttered and he looked as if he were trying not to vomit. "He…he came home, this summer, late one night. He was…trembling. Sobbing. Had his hands wrapped around his stomach. Didn't even look at me. Went straight to bed. I didn't see him for nearly three days.

"And then…he called me into the kitchen one day," Theo's face was scrunched up, now. He was looking at the floor and shaking his head violently. "H-he called me and told me that the Dark Lord was back. And then he said he had to prepare me. 'We all must be ready, son. I've got something for you. It will make you stronger. It will make you useful to our Lord.'"

Harry was terrified to hear the rest. He knew what had happened to Cantankerous Nott that night. That was the night Voldemort gutted his own ranks. Voldemort had no mercy, that night. Nott had gotten the brunt of it.

"And then…he put this on me," Theo gestured to his breast with a trembling hand. "It's a family heirloom. Father said our family has used it for generations to toughen up our family line but I know better than that. It's a torture device. And he's used it on me. His own _son_."

"What does it do?" Harry whispered. He wanted to reach out. To touch Theo and to let him know it would be okay. But he was afraid Theo would flinch. Those lesions looked so painful.

Theo bit back a sob. "It…it's a necklace. Or it was. You put it on and it puts a curse on you. Every time you lie down, the curse starts digging into your flesh – and not necessarily right away, either. No…it waits until you aren't thinking about it. And then…it cuts into you…I can't _sleep_, Harry."

Harry's eyes stung. He felt so much pity for Theo, matched only by his anger and repulsion for Cantankerous Nott. He reached out and tentatively hugged Theo. His friend grabbed him tightly. The emotions were flowing, now. Nothing would stop them.

"And that's not even the worst part," Harry could feel his robes getting wet. He had never seen Theo weep before, and yet Harry could not blame him at all. "The worst…"

Theo fumbled with the pocket of his robes. He pulled out a little vial of a dark green liquid. Harry watched as Theo brought it up to eye level. Theo was gazing at it longingly.

"What does that do?"

"…It ends it," Theo whispered.

"Well take it then!" Harry cried. "Why put yourself through this?"

Theo shook his head, sobbing out a laugh. "You don't understand, Harry. It _ends_ it. Ends it all."

"All of…" Harry trailed off. He looked back to Theo, completely horrified. "Your bloody father gave you a damn suicide potion?! Is he insane?"

That was what Theo had been holding when Harry entered the Common Room. He had been staring into the fire and…and…

Theo sniffed wretchedly. "Father said that a strong Nott would never use it. And a weak one…well, he said a weak one didn't deserve to live."

"Your father is wrong!" Harry growled vehemently. "Here, gimme that – "

"No, Harry!"

"Yes! _Accio_!"

Theo gave a feeble protest as Harry's spell wrenched the potion away. Harry threw it immediately into the fire.

"Damn you! That was my one way out!"

"No!" Harry yelled in a whisper. He grabbed Theo's shoulders, minding the festering wounds located there. "You should have told me immediately, Theo!"

"Why?" Theo chocked thickly. "What can you do? You're with them! My father! The Dark Lord!"

"Voldemort would never condone this, Theo! Your father is torturing you! He's wrong about everything! What he's doing is not okay!"

"Don't you think I know that?!" Theo screamed. Harry cast a hasty silencing spell. "But what can I do? Nothing! Nothing except use that bloody potion, and now you've taken that away from me!"

"I can make this right – grab my hand," Harry growled. "I'm going to fix all of this right fucking now."

"What? No, I –"

Harry was not even listening. His eyes were still stinging him at the mere thought of what had been done to his friend. He grasped Theo's hand with and rubbed at his ring with the other. The blackness spread over him and he heard Theo gasp. Harry closed his eyes and felt the wind bite at him. Theo yelped and Harry opened his eyes.

"Seriously, Harry? You didn't even let me grab my shirt! It's _cold_ – "

"Then let's go inside," Harry said, whirling Theo around to look at the mansion. Theo gaped stupidly for a moment.

"Where are we?"

"Voldemort's house."

"What?! No! No no no!"

"Be quiet," Harry scolded him. "Please, Theo! Trust me!"

Theo looked like he was going to piss himself. Harry sighed and handed him his robe. "Here," Harry said. "Put that on. Voldemort will fix all of this."

"…Are you sure? He won't…you know. Hurt me?"

"Of course not," Harry scoffed. "Your father is the villain, here."

And Harry marched him straight through the entrance hall of the mansion before Theo could even protest. Theo was looking around in a stupor. It was best if Harry took him to Voldemort quickly – it would allow Theo less time to freak out.

"Ah! Harry! Great job, today!"

"Not now, Barty," Harry murmured, barely even looking at the man descending the staircase. "Gotta talk to Voldemort."

The door to the throne room opened as he approached. And there Voldemort was, leaning casually against the back of his throne as he spoke to Bellatrix before him. Harry felt Theo tremble at the mere sight of Voldemort in all of his splendor. Voldemort's eyes rose to watch as Harry and Theo approached. He raised a hand to stop Bellatrix.

"Yes, Harry?" Voldemort said. Harry bit back the urge to snap at him. Really? That was all he had to say?

"My friend Theo has a curse on him," Harry bit out. "You remember Theo, yes?"

Voldemort smiled. "Of course. Hello, Theodore. You know, the last time we met, I was inside Harry's head."

"G-good evening, my Lord – "

Theo had apparently deemed it appropriate to bow. His hair was almost scraping the marble flooring. Harry rolled his eyes, and Voldemort seemed amused.

"Not that I do not appreciate the display, Theodore, but that is not necessary. You are not one of my followers," Voldemort spoke with enjoyment. "My, my. What happened to the amusing boy that I saw a few years ago?"

Theo was shaking again and saying nothing. Harry spoke up for him. "His father has put a curse on him. Would you take it off, please? Or bring Nott to do it."

Voldemort looked at them in surprise for a moment before waving Bellatrix away. "We'll speak later, Bellatrix. This situation requires my undivided attention, it seems."

"Of course, my Lord," Bellatrix kneeled quickly. A darkly humorous look crossed her face. "Lovely duel, Harry."

Voldemort shot her a dry look right back and she hastened out of the throne room. He then stood and walked down the steps, right up to Theo. "Keep calm and hold still, boy. I won't hurt you."

But it seemed Theo could not calm himself. His trembling had reached uncontrollable levels. All he could do was stare at Voldemort in fear. The Dark Lord sighed, swishing his wand. Theo's eyes rolled for a moment and the shaking stopped.

"His father has been feeding him lies," Harry gritted his teeth. "He told Theo that this curse would prepare him for your service. He's been torturing his son."

"Has he, now? Take off the robe." Voldemort muttered mildly. Theo did what the Dark Lord requested without protest. Harry watched as Voldemort's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Voldemort whistled lowly. "Ah, this is an old one. Haven't seen it in quite a while."

"You can fix it, of course?" Harry asked, not really asking. Instead, he was examining Voldemort. The man showed no signs of ever being hurt earlier.

"Naturally," Voldemort drawled. "I just need to deactivate the curse. I'll send him up to the Healers to get these wounds patched up. No…what I'm thinking about is how to punish Nott for this. What do you think, Theodore?"

Theo seemed to snap out of whatever Voldemort had done to him. He watched hesitantly as Voldemort ran his wand over his torso. "Er…I don't know? Whatever you feel is best, my Lord?"

"A diplomatic answer, and a respectful one at that," Voldemort approved. "But if I wanted such answers, I would ask any of the brown-nosing followers that I possess. I want a real answer, Theodore. What would you like done to the father that tortures his own son?"

"He gave Theo a potion to off himself, too," Harry spat. "Bloody wanker."

Voldemort laughed cruelly. He then tilted his head, looking down at Theo. "I don't maim people, Theodore. I expect a certain level of service from those who have sworn loyalty to me. When I returned, I made sure that all of my followers knew how badly they had failed me. I punished your father on the night of my return and it seems that he has undeservingly directed my wrath onto you."

Voldemort stared over Theo's head for a moment before leaning down, whispering into Theo's ear. "Would you like to know what I would do if I were in your shoes, Theodore?"

"W-what, sir?" Theo asked tentatively.

Voldemort kept running his wand over Theo for a moment. Then, he grinned. "I would kill him. Slowly." The Dark Lord quirked an eyebrow after that.

"I'm still waiting for an answer, you know," Voldemort said. Theo looked down for a moment, and when he looked up again, there was anger on his face.

Finally.

"I hate him," Theo whispered. Voldemort hummed in sympathy. "I would hurt him as much as he's tortured me."

"And then what?"

"…I'd…"

"…Yes?"

"…"

"Don't have the stomach to consider anything else?" Voldemort said lightly. Theo looked up at him with pain in his eyes. "You're young. It's fine. Society makes killing to be this outrageous sin and it's only natural that you are put off by the idea of murder. But it's quite easy, really. One spell; no muss, no fuss."

"There," Voldemort patted Theo on the shoulder and withdrew his wand. "It is done. Now if you would, wait here. A healer will take you up to my infirmary shortly. Harry, follow me."

"T-thank you, my Lord," Theo whispered dazedly. "Thank you so much."

Voldemort turned around, smiling to him. "You are quite welcome, Theodore. Perhaps this will give you a true opinion of your Lord – not the lies that I see swirling inside your head. I will not kill your father…but if you ever decide that you wish to end his pathetic life, you may stay here, in my mansion. My house elves will take care of all your needs while you are in school. Come, Harry."

* * *

Voldemort led Harry to his private study. He waved the door open, moving directly for one of the large bookshelves on one side of the room. Harry decided to flop down onto the nearest cushioned seat, drooping his head on the side.

"I'm bloody tired."

"Sleep, then."

"Not until you tell me what the hell today was about. Why wasn't I told what was going to happen?"

Voldemort paused in his pursuit of a book, turning to look at Harry over his shoulder.

"Careful, Harry. You're sounding awfully petulant."

"Petulance has a connotation of being unjustified," Harry shot back, unimpressed. "But I feel that my question is completely justified when you decide to start flinging Killing Curses at me."

Voldemort chuckled merrily. "Those weren't Killing Curses."

"Sure looked like it!"

Oh, the patronizing look Voldemort shot him. "Do you think I'm incapable of making something appear real? Please. It was merely a colorful illusion and shouted words."

Harry gaped. "Yes, but I didn't know that! I thought you were coming after me for real!"

Voldemort turned back to his search of a book. It pulled a book out by the spine, flipping it open deftly and reading in silence for a moment. The Dark Lord nodded, snapped the book shut, and started walking to Harry.

"That was the point," Voldemort said, sitting down. "I wanted a genuine reaction from you. Besides, you don't have a right to know all of my plans. Here."

Voldemort tossed the book at him. It was brown and worn, with no decipherable words on the cover.

"What's this rubbish?"

"That 'rubbish' is the result of my research," Voldemort smirked, looking immensely pleased with himself. "You wanted to fix your godfather's leg? There it is. I marked the page for you."

Harry's eyes lit up. He fumbled with the book, a smile tugging at his lips. Sure enough, there was a ritual laid out upon the page. It looked difficult and certainly dark…but it might just work.

"The ritual works off the theory of the transfer of physical and magical energy," Voldemort informed him airily. "You can take from one and transfer it to the other, but for that energy to be fully functional it must be in its original form. That is why we cannot just use pure magic to fix your godfather's leg. However, if we converted physical energy into magical energy, and then converted it back…"

"We could improve his leg," Harry breathed. "Voldemort, I love you."

"You're not the first. You won't be the last," Voldemort lounged back, smiling lazily. "Consider this a thank you for playing your part today."

"I still don't like it," Harry told him, reading over the ritual. "It makes me question what you're doing if you don't let me in. What comes after all of this? Are you going to rule Britain like I think you are, or will you just do it your way? Why even do what you did today? To make me look like a hero when I beat you in a duel?"

"Of course," Voldemort smiled, satisfied. "I just created a hero for the Ministry. Lucius and several other followers have important places in the Ministry, but your spot cannot be touched. Fudge will need to lean on you. He will tell you things that he cannot tell anyone else. That is valuable knowledge. Knowledge that I can use. And then…when it's Fudge's time to die, you'll be there to finish the job."

Harry looked up at him. "You put me in a really bad spot, today. I had friends and family there. They could have gotten hurt – "

"Lucius had strict orders to keep them protected," Voldemort laughed. "I took care of everything."

Harry growled in frustration. "I had overhead Theo and his father! He told Theo that you were there and something was going to happen! I had to choose between helping Theo and warning my godfather! That's not fair!"

"Another grievance against me for Nott, it seems," Voldemort muttered wryly. "You know, Harry, you really ought to thank me. I saved you from having that silly little misconception stew about inside your head for any longer."

"What are you on about?"

"That precious little jade you used?" Voldemort chuckled mirthlessly. "That jade you used without informing me? My, Harry, you've been running about for _months_, thinking I was going to betray you…"

Harry was gaping as Voldemort continued to chortle merrily. "H-how did you?"

"You still haven't learned Occlumency," Voldemort scolded him. "Dumbledore may be too noble to use Legilimency on his followers, but I am not. It's incredibly foolish of you to walk around with an open mind. Did I not tell you to learn that stuff?"

"I…I was going to – "

"Oh, you were going to," Voldemort smirked indulgently. "How about _doing_ it, instead? Honestly, I gave you books for it months ago."

Well. Harry felt like a right fool. Voldemort had been playing him the entire time. Harry frowned and stood up.

"…Alright, then," He muttered mutely. "I guess I'll go collect Theo and get out of your way then."

It hurt, really. Harry had tried…he had treated Voldemort as a friend. He told him most things; was it not fair to expect the same?

"Oh, stop moping."

Harry whirled around, his anger back in a flash. "You've been mistreating me, insulting me – and all you do is give me shit to try to make up for it. I'm not okay with that. I thought I _mattered_ around here."

"You do," Voldemort allowed, standing up himself. "Look, you deserved this. You attempted to keep a secret from me and I made you pay for it. Just like everyone else. Get over it. With that said, you have done much for our cause. You've done much for me personally. For that, I've given you that ritual to heal your godfather. I've given you more than any of my other followers, Harry, and it's not even close. I've been working on yet another gift for you, as well."

Harry eyed him. "And what would that be?"

Voldemort smiled sinisterly. "Oh, something that I've been mulling over. Tell you what? I'll have it ready by the next raid. I'm sure it will make up for any transgressions you feel that I've committed towards you."

"…Fine," Harry allowed, feeling slightly better. At least Voldemort had not truly betrayed him. Silver linings, right? "I'm gonna go sleep, now. Hopefully Theo's ready to go. Thank you for healing him."

"Not a problem."

Harry waved vaguely over his shoulder. He was absolutely exhausted.

"Go read up on Occlumency before bed!"

"Fuck you!"

* * *

**There you have it. Poor Theo, eh? Writing that was difficult. Theo's a strong character, but he's been tortured. Literally tortured. Sleep deprived. He's been propping himself upright to sleep - and then, inevitably, he falls over and the curse takes hold. Poor kid.**

**Writing Voldemort is always fun as hell. He did a wonderful job endearing himself to Theo while also tempting him towards hatred of his father, if I do say so myself. I have two really vague references in this chapter towards things I like. Can you find them? I'll give you a hint: one is from a musical, the other is from a comedian.**

**Next chapter will skip ahead a few weeks! Maybe even a month or two. We'll see. I think you'll like where it's all going. Leave me a review if there's anything you'd like to see more of!**

**Until next time,**

**Brigade**


	14. A Worthy Sacrifice

**Suuuuuuuup? **

**So. I've been busy as hell and I'm starting to get tired of being so damn busy. Is that what being an adult is like? Where do I file my two weeks notice?**

**Anyway! We're back to Embraced by the Darkness and we're moving forward in time just a bit. This chapter and the next will be setting up the final stretch of this story. We're probably looking at roughly the same length as Enveloped in the Darkness, by the way. And I'm almost certain this will be a trilogy.**

**We're getting ahead of ourselves! Here's your new chapter. Read it. And then review. And then follow me on Twitter or something at BrigadeEitD. Or whatever.**

* * *

**EbtD Chapter 14: A Worthy Sacrifice**

Harry rubbed at the leather encasing his palm with the thumb of his other hand. It was not too terribly cold at the moment, but then a burst of biting air whistled through the tunnel, reminding him that it was, in fact, winter now. It was oddly quiet in the tunnel, save for the echoing, pit-pattering shuffle of feet. The noise was nothing in comparison to the raucous chanting and general noise gathering outside the tunnel. Harry snorted softly, watching his exhalation ice over in midair. He ducked his head, closed his eyes, and waited.

"Aaaaand now!" Lee Jordan exclaimed as the noise without the tunnel hit a crescendo. "We've seen the Ravenclaw team, but here come the Slytherins! The Chasers: Captain Margaret Whittingale, Cassius Warrington, and Draco Malfoy! Beaters Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole! Keeper Miles Bletchley! And their Seeker, the Defeater of Dark Lords – "

"JORDAN! ALREADY?"

"- The Boy-Who-Lived himself - Harry Potter!"

The cheers were deafening. Absolutely deafening. That struck Harry harder than the intense inclemency as he mounted his Nimbus 2000 and shot off into the Hogwarts sky. Snape had pulled him aside this morning and warned him that there were bound to be extra people here for Slytherin's first Quidditch game of the year. After Harry's duel with Voldemort nearly two months ago, it was only natural. But this? The normally sparse stands were just isolated columns that were scattered around the Quidditch pitch. Now, it was reminiscent of an entire football arena. The columns were expanded, and wrapped fully around the pitch. There was even two-tiered seating.

Harry had seen the Ministry workers at the school this week and he had even practiced with the new seating arrangement, but the difference a few thousand people could make was remarkable. And that was without even mentioning the flashbulbs going off. Harry flew near the Slytherin section of the crowd where there were (thankfully) no flashing lights. He waved and did a few flips for their enjoyment.

"The Slyherin Quidditch team has a seven game winning streak going," Jordan informed the large crowd. "Needless to say, it's about time they lost. Go Ravenclaw!"

"Jordan – you are supposed to be _impartial_," Harry heard McGonagall say as the crowd started to jeer. It made him blink. The crowd was rooting for Slytherin? Boy, that was hysterical.

"All right, you mongrels! I only said it because my House needs a Seeker. Sorry Oliver!" Lee chirped cheerfully. "There's nothing wrong with being Slytherin. My best mates are mates with a Slytherin!"

Harry shook his head in bemusement.

"Players to the ground!" Madam Hooch shouted, blowing her whistle and descending to the middle of the pitch. Harry directed his Nimbus downwards and landed near midfield beside Warrington and Draco, the frozen soil crunching underneath his feet. He rubbed at his eyes with a leathered hand; the flashbulbs were going off nonstop now. It was annoying whilst he was in the air, but it was downright distracting, now, looking up at them all.

Harry shielded his eyes and looked over to the two of them. Draco's eyes were wide as he looked around. If his expression were any indication, Harry was not the only one affected by the lights – except where Harry was slightly annoyed, Draco appeared frightened.

Warrington, however, appeared as if he was without a care in the world.

"You alright, Draco?" Harry called over the chant that the crowd was starting. He watched as Whittingale shook the hand of the Ravenclaw captain.

"There're a lot of people here," Draco muttered dazedly, clutching his brand new Nimbus 2001. Lucius had bought it for him when he made the team last month. Draco had tried out as a Chaser last year, but Whittingale had thought Draco was too small to play the position. Harry had reluctantly agreed. Being a smaller Seeker did not matter much, but being a Chaser was much more physically demanding.

Draco was ready now, though. A growth spurt at the end of second year filled him out a bit. And with the newest Nimbus broom in his hands, he was a legitimate threat as a Chaser. Harry was still riding the Nimbus 2000 that Lucius Malfoy had given him two years ago – it suited him fine, despite Draco's teasing. Honestly, since when was a Nimbus 2000 an old broom?

"Well, that's the point, yeah?" Harry punched him in the shoulder. "You'll be great, mate. Royce worked with us off and on all summer. Look for space and let your speed do the rest. Just be sure to communicate with Margaret and Cass. Right Cass?"

Warrington cocked and eyebrow, smirking a bit. "Yeah. We're _Slytherin_, Malfoy. Don't worry too much."

Warrington had gotten on the team last year to replace Montague. After Snape gave Whittingale the captaincy, she made sure to get rid of the last of Flint and his goons.

"I wish these flashes would stop, though," Warrington added, looking around disinterestedly. "It's hard enough to keep up with two fucking Bludgers without being _blind_."

"Pictures are outlawed in the professional leagues, aren't they?" Draco muttered timidly. "Creates an unsafe playing environment,' I think the rule says."

Harry frowned. "Don't let them get the best of you, Draco. You'll be brilliant. I promise. Tell you what – Oi! Madam Hooch!"

Hooch looked up from her work. She had just finished informing the two captains of the rules and was working on opening the Quidditch trunk. "Yes, Potter?"

"You're not going to let them continue this, are you?" Harry waved his hand wildly. "Photos during a match are illegal in the pros. How am I to see the Snitch with all these lights?"

"They are not illegal here, Potter. But we've never exactly had that problem." Hooch looked over to the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang. "What do you say, Chang? Do you have a problem with them as well?"

Chang looked around and then over at Harry. Harry nodded eagerly.

"It's pretty bad," she admitted. "Is there anything you can do, Madam Hooch?"

Hooch looked between them and sighed, snatching up her broom. "I'll mention it to McGonagall. We'll begin in a moment."

Harry grinned, turning to Draco and giving him a thumbs up. Harry was no idiot; he knew exactly who those flashbulbs were trained on. But if it would help Draco relax and just play Quidditch, then putting in a complaint about the cameras with Hooch was the least he could do.

"Attention, fans in attendance," Professor McGonagall voice rung out. "We must ask you to please refrain from taking pictures during this match. They can pose a danger to our students. Thank you for your understanding."

Harry watched as Hooch soared through the air, back down to the ground. The bulbs started to disappear, but there were still a few flashing. Harry found it surprisingly unsurprising that witches and wizards cared more about taking photographs than the actual safety of children.

But whatever, right? A wave of blue magic suddenly encompassed the pitch and all flashbulbs ceased at last. Harry looked up to where the teachers were seated – Dumbledore was standing, wand drawn. Of course.

"Now, Captains!" Hooch hollered over the noise of the crowd. "Are you ready?"

Harry twirled his broom behind his back before gripping it tightly in his right hand. The Snitch shot off into the air with little fanfare, heading towards the Ravenclaw hoops before disappearing in the hazy sky. The Bludgers burst from their restraints, knocking into one another in violent glee before circling overhead like buzzards.

"Aaaand they're off!" Lee shouted as the crowd roared and Harry kicked off from the ground. "Ravenclaw is quickly in possession – Ravenclaw Captain Roger Davies steals the Quaffle out of the air but Draco Malfoy is hot on his heels! Davies passes to Randolph Burrow who rolls under Slytherin Captain Margaret Whittingale! Ah, but it's stolen by Cassius Warrington and now Slytherin is on the move! Malfoy to the left and Whittingale underneath! Nice move to avoid the Bludger by Malfoy as he receives the pass! Malfoy's going wide – my, he's going off all alone! Burrow chases after the youngest Slytherin Chaser as Jeremy Stretton goes to cut him off. Another agile move from Malfoy as he passes to Whittingale! She's coming up on goal and – oh what a Bludger from Beater Duncan Inglebee! Ravenclaw is in possession again as Davies passes to Stretton as he comes to help –"

Harry flew higher in the air, sweeping around the pitch in an attempt to find the Snitch. Chang was following him closely – Harry had embarrassed her last year when she decided to wander off, thinking she could find the Snitch first. Slytherin had won the match 170-30 in a terribly short match. It seemed that she did not want to make the same mistake this year.

Harry smirked over his shoulder at her; he wanted her to know that he saw her. He left her be for the moment. Right now, he wanted to finish his initial scan of the pitch.

Nothing. It was quite misty, now, as a haze of drizzle hung in the air. Finding the Snitch would be difficult today.

"Ravenclaw scores! 30-10 now for the blue house! Another great Bludger play from Inglebee as Jason Samuels assists! They're running circles around Slytherin Beaters Derrick and Bole!"

Harry frowned. Draco had snuck away with his speed to score a quick goal, but now Ravenclaw was marking him closely. Warrington played a very physical style as a Chaser, but he needed coverage from the Beaters to truly be a nuisance. And the Ravenclaw Beaters were _destroying_ them.

"Whittingale bats it away from Stretton and it's in the hands of Malfoy – but Inglebee and Samuels are on his tail! Wait! Harry Potter is streaking across the pitch! Has he seen the Snitch?"

No. He had not. But Harry was low on his broom, racing through the air as Draco flew in his direction. Harry soared over top of him, though, baring down on the two Beaters in pursuit. Inglebee had just knocked a Bludger over to Samuels, but Harry reached it first, knocking it away with his forearm.

"Wait, what…? Oh! Wonderful move by Potter to block the Bludger and Malfoy's alone on goal! Malfoy pump fakes…Goal! 30-20 Ravenclaw!"

Harry turned on the spot and raised his eyebrows to Chang who was just now catching up to him. The scowled and shot off past him. Harry chuckled to himself and flew low to look for the Snitch.

He had no luck there, either, and the game was looking more and more grim. The Ravenclaw Beaters were flying circles around Derrick and Bole. Their teamwork was much better. It was not like they were stealing both Bludgers, either. They were just more efficient and disruptive. Inglebee and Samuels would break up a Slytherin play with one Bludger before flying over to steal the other from Derrick and Bole. The Slytherin Beaters would then have to chase the uncontrolled Bludger down and by that point, Ravenclaw had a decisive advantage.

Whittingale had already called a timeout to minimal results. Warrington was growing increasingly frustrated and had been whistled for two fouls, now. Draco was getting tired – he was having to work so hard for his chances on the Ravenclaw hoops that he was not much help on defense. Poor Bletchley.

And poor Slytherin. They were down 90 points, 170-80, despite Harry's help.

"Not looking so good, huh?" Chang snickered to Harry's right. The rain was coming down harder, now. "We knew your Beaters were average at best so we worked on a game plan. A few more minutes and not even you will be able to win this game."

Harry squinted across the pitch at the Ravenclaw student section. "Well, Chang. You know there's a problem with your plan, there, don't you?"

She laughed. She was not too smug, but it still irked him. "Unless you plan to start playing Beater, Potter, I'm not sure what's wrong with our plan."

Yep. That was the Snitch, alright. "Well, I'm definitely not going to be playing Beater."

"But…?"

"But I see the Snitch. Bye!"

"Potter's off again, folks! Maybe this time he's seen the Snitch? He's flown to the aid of his teammates several times so far – it look like he has! Chang's in chase and Potter dives low!"

The Snitch had fluttered around a bit, but now it was racing down the side of the stanchion, along the Ravenclaw banners adorning their side of the stadium. Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye and swerved, avoiding a well-placed Bludger and kicking off the walling of the stadium to change direction.

"There it is, ladies and gentlemen! The Snitch is low to the ground, racing around near the Slytherin posts! Potter's in swift pursuit with Chang on his tracks – and now the Ravenclaw Beaters have both abandoned their Chasers. They're desperate to stop Potter from catching his seventh consecutive Snitch!"

They were unmerciless. Inglebee and Samuels were just batting a Bludger back and forth and Harry was caught in the middle. Harry felt Chang sidle up to him on his right. Of course, the Snitch would choose that moment to veer to the right, and now they were neck and neck, flying down the pitch.

'_Where the fuck are Bole and Derrick?_' Harry fumed, ducking a Bludger that was aimed to miss Chang but hit him. He was getting desperate. How was he to win a game all alone? The Snitch rose up in the air, nearing the action in the middle of the pitch as the Chasers fought for possession of the Quaffle before diving down again. Chang had gotten ahead of him just slightly before that dip back down and Harry made the adjustment quicker, retaking the lead.

"Potter and Chang are fingertips away!" Lee Jordan exclaimed gleefully. "Is this the end of the Slytherin empire? Will Chang be the one to dethrone Potter?! Will Ravenclaw win its – OI! THAT'S A BLOODY FOUL!"

"JORDAN!"

A flash of blonde swerved in front of Chang, knocking away the Bludger that Inglebee and Samuels had been sharing. Chang faltered and Harry surged forward. The Snitch veered downwards before leveling out, mere feet away from the grassy playing field. Harry's eyes widened as the Snitch started to turn again and he dived, leathered fingers crushing a single, fluttering wing.

His body somersaulted through the air for a brief moment before his neck and shoulders made contact with sand. Harry rolled on instinct and his body tumbled. Sand and dust and grime shot into the air and into his lungs, causing him to cough and sputter. And then Harry was lying on his back, holding onto the wing of the Snitch with one hand and cradling it to his chest with the other.

"That was a blatant foul, Hooch! Come on!" Lee Jordan bemoaned. "Well, despite the most obvious foul in Hogwarts history, Potter does it again! Slytherin wins, 260-180!"

The flashbulbs were back and the crowd was louder than ever. Harry winced as he sat up. God, his uniform was a mess and dirt was clinging to his dampened skin.

"Yeah! How'd you like that?!" Draco stumbled to the ground, yelling over the crowd. "That's payback for helping with the goal!"

"That's what I'm talking about!" Harry roared, wrapping an arm around a wearily beaming Draco and using him as leverage to stand.

"Bole and Derrick were awful," Draco whispered in his ear as their teammates joined them on the ground to celebrate. "They were so _bad_."

"Don't worry about it," Harry grinned broadly. "Just enjoy the win. How many goals did you score?"

"Seven, but – "

"No buts. You were brilliant," Harry punched his friend on the shoulder. "Let's celebrate."

* * *

Harry shook his head wildly, water flying from his shower-soaked hair as he held a hand out and summoned his towel from outside the communal showers of the Quidditch locker rooms. The showers were split, actually. They were wide open, but separated by a wide wall, allowing the witches and wizards to shower in relative privacy – at least from the other gender.

God forbid if witches and wizards see each other naked, right? We cannot have any of that in a school, can we? Harry snorted, shaking his head once more before rubbing it vigorously with his towel. If anything, having teenagers shower together at all was the wrong move.

The locker room was empty by now, though. That was a relief to Harry. He had no need to change quickly and rush his way back to the castle, even knowing Sirius and Royce were sticking around for dinner to celebrate Slytherin's victory. The locker room was calmly quiet and barren; the only thing keeping Harry company was the drifting steam from his shower that was permeating the area.

Harry wrapped the towel around his waist, stepped out of the shower and onto the warm tile – magic was _brilliant_ – and sighed. Quiet was nice. It was also rare. He scarcely got a moment to his own thoughts nowadays. There was always someone who wanted his attention. After the match today, those people included but were not limited to: Sirius, Remus, Royce, Fudge, Cedric, the Weasley twins, Blaise, Theo, his teammates, Slytherin house in general, most of the school faculty, and a hefty majority of the crowd that came to the match simply to see him play and take silly pictures.

Was it any wonder he was the last one to get into the locker room? Harry did get the opportunity to talk to a representative from the Nimbus Racing Broom Company, though. That was pretty neat. They wanted some sort of endorsement deal or something. Harry had smiled and made sure to say the right things. They would be in touch soon, the Nimbus rep claimed. Maybe they would get him some free stuff? Who did not like free stuff?

Harry stopped for a second to look at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the scratches on his neck and shoulders. That bloody sand had really done a number on him. The warm water of his shower had stung and prickled, and now he knew why. Harry dropped his towel into the hamper carelessly and ambled over to his locker. Gently, Harry reached in his leather duffel bag where he kept his Quidditch supplies.

He did not grasp for them, however. Instead, Harry retrieved the brown, dilapidated book from the bottom of his bag. Harry turned around and sat down, delicately opening the little book that Voldemort had given him several weeks ago. Harry flipped the little leather book open to the page with a scrap of parchment folded in between the pages. He took the piece of parchment and tucked it under the book's cover as his eyes scanned the pages once more:

_The topic of physical to magical energy conversion as long been discussed as a practice of magic with the potential to revolutionize how witches and wizards see and interact with magic. Polish witch Ana Nowitzski first recorded the potential of physical to magical energy conversion when she ritualized her house elf's manual labor to produce a rudimentary warding energy to defend and protect her family. The house elf's intentions to serve and shelter the family to which she was bound fueled the transformation. Physical energy converted itself into a magical force and beliefs held by the creature shaped the guidelines by which the spell was formed. _

_The benefits of this form of magic are obvious; any witch or wizard can temporarily bolster their magic in the short term through physical means. With this ability, a witch or wizard may be able to cast spells, perform enchantments, and invoke magics that would be beyond their usual skill level. Inversely, a witch or wizard may also use short amounts of raw magic to fuel mundane physical activities. In either situation, a physical to magical energy conversion or its opposite can be used to take a non-specific energy resource and convert it into an energy made for a specific purpose._

_Despite the positives, however, the law of physical to magical energy conversion lends itself to magical abuse fairly easily. The ability to guide the energy being converted through its conversion is difficult, especially in the instance of guiding physical energy into magical energy. Also, the benefits of these conversions are temporary; energy gained through this manner tends to be lost to other forms very quickly. There are methods to sustain these advancements, but they most assuredly delve out of the realms of Neutral, Grey, or Passive Magics and into the category of Dark Magic. _

_The most assured way of invoking a permanent conversion of energy is through the use of Blood Magic. Blood Magic is, in of itself, a very potent and volatile form of magic. The blood of a living creature holds its life, and with it, raw magical potential. Blood Magic has long been used in sacrificial circumstances and in this case of provoking a change in magical or physical energy, this is especially useful. With the implementation of Blood Magic, a ritual with a simplistic result can become a much more complex, woven –_

It was impressive. Really, it was. Harry had never even considered the possibility of this…transmutation of energy. It had never occurred to him that physical energy could be compared to magic. Even now, Harry struggled to understand the connection. And yet, the proof was here in this little booklet that Voldemort had provided him. The first time Harry had read the passage – which was the night Voldemort had given him the book, actually – Harry had stayed up for hours thinking about the implications. And then Harry had gone about his own research in the Restricted Section. Every resource he had found supported the connections made in this little, untitled book.

And then…there was Voldemort's note. Harry opened the crumpled piece of parchment once more:

_Harry,_

_A ritual sacrifice with two connected foci seems to me to be your best course of action. In this circumstance, you would have your sacrifice attached to one of the foci and the other would be used for your end result – in this case, your godfather. However, I have my doubts that Sirius Black has the stomach for something so…visceral._

_You have your work cut out for you. Keep me updated. _

_Voldemort _

Voldemort's scribbled letter was fairly vague, but Harry knew enough about magic and rituals now to know where to look. And make no mistake – Voldemort was right. Sirius would abhor the cost of this ritual. He would never go along with it.

…Which was why Harry had found an alternative. Scouring over the books on ritualistic forms of magic that Lucius Malfoy had given him for his birthday, Harry had found the perfect way to make this all work.

A _potion_. If Sirius would not willingly join in the ritual, Harry could imbue the energy of the ritual in a physical form – this created potion – that would then make physical changes to whoever drank the concoction. This was his plan, and Harry would be presenting Sirius with the best Christmas gift a godson could ever give.

Now…he needed a blood sacrifice. And that was what tonight was about. The quiet, vacant locker room presented Harry with a wonderful opportunity to think. And as the castle tucked in for a celebratory dinner – or a dejected one, depending on your perspective – Harry was gifted the opportunity to act without eyes following him.

Harry leant back in his locker, sighing deeply. He had thought about it for a long time, actually. He had dreamt of it. Who deserved to be sacrificed in order for his godfather to properly walk again?

There was only one person Harry could think of.

He stood up and dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a black, hooded jacket. Harry stuffed the rest of his belongings in his duffel bag, Disillusioned it, and warded it before dropping it into his locker. And then, Harry snatched up his broom and left the locker room.

The sky was growing dark and the castle shone like a beacon as a frigid night ascended on it. Harry wasted no time in jumping on his broom and shooting off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. There Anti-Apparition Wards surrounding Hogwarts stopped somewhere out there. Harry would just have to fly until he found them.

It did not take long. Harry felt the magic sweep over him and he turned in midair. His head and limbs were squeezed and he held his breath, letting his body move through space and suddenly he stood in front of a door.

Harry knocked innocently on the door in front of him, looking around just a bit. The muggle neighborhood was neat and tidy, with modest homes resting upon measured lawns. All the houses were painted with fresh colors. Harry heard a female's voice and footsteps from inside the house. Warmth surged to him as the door opened.

An attractive, black-haired woman opened the door with a smile.

"Hello, young man," She said sweetly to him. "May I help you?"

Harry put a humble grin on his face, meeting her blue eyes. "Yes, ma'am. Is there a Mr. Crawford home?"

* * *

**Muahaha...so evil, and yet so deserved. Do we all remember the Crawfords? I love poetic justice.**

**See you soon.**

**Brigade**


	15. Cruor

**Jesus Christ. It's been a long time, hasn't it?!**

**I'd like to apologize for how long this chapter has taken me. School, family, and work have really taken a large portion of my time recently. I just decided to leave my writing alone for a while.**

**And then, of course, once you're off the horse, it's really difficult to get back on. **

**Anyway! If you need a recap of what's happening, Slytherin just won a Quidditch game and Harry used the time after all the parties to work on a ritual that will help heal Sirius. And now, I leave you to it.**

**Enjoy. **

* * *

**Chapter 15: Cruor**

Harry pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head as he walked down to the Forbidden Forest in the dim moonlight. It had to be well past midnight, now, and the castle was soundly sleeping. No one would be the wiser of what he was up to. Harry adjusted the hood a bit until it properly guarded his neck from the bitter wind and hastily stuffed his hands into his pockets; it was bloody _cold_.

Dinner had been nice. All his friends had come by and congratulated him. Draco had received a lot of well-deserved attention, too. Harry snickered to himself. Ah, the puffed up, infinitely pleased look Draco had sported for the rest of the night…

Harry did not get to see much of Cedric, unfortunately. Cedric was too busy consoling his sullen girlfriend, Cho Chang. Cedric did send an apologetic look Harry's way during dinner, though. Harry had shrugged helplessly before smiling and waving him off.

Sirius, Remus, and Royce had all been entertaining as hell, too. Remus had made sure to temper his joy a bit – he was a teacher, after all. But as for Sirius and Royce…well, those two were a different story. Royce had snuck alcohol inside the school in some fancy flask and he and Sirius spent dinner singing Harry's praises and getting progressively more boisterous. When Sirius started slurring his way through a story involving Professor McGonagall, a broom cupboard, a wand, and a ball of string, Remus had forcefully sent Sirius and Royce to bed.

And of course, then there was the Slytherin after party.

There was music, more food nicked from the kitchens, and drinks. Warrington had decided that the Chasers would be taking shots of Firewhisky for every goal they scored as a "warm up." Poor Draco struggled through a shot, gasping for air as his eyes watered. Harry could not help but snicker, and Draco forced a shot of Firewhisky into his hand.

"Your turn," Draco had scowled playfully.

Harry shrugged and tipped it back. Alcohol was not that big of a deal, right?

Harry shook his head a bit, just remembering the experience. It was _awful_. The taste was actually fine until it hit the back of his tongue. Then, the sweetness of the drink became fire, scorching his throat on the way down. Harry had not been able to hold back a choked sputter and had eyed the shot glass with contempt.

"_That stuff's foul," Harry had grimaced. He then passed a bottle of the Firewhisky over to Theo, who took a hefty swig, closed his eyes and slumped back boneless against the couch with a sigh._

_Everyone looked at him. Theo opened his eyes and glared at them all. "What? So I've had it before! What of it?"_

"_Nothing," Blaise said, blinking. "Just didn't know my friend was already a drunkard at thirteen, that's all."_

"_Oi!"_

_Harry snickered as Theo launched himself at Blaise, sloshing the Firewhisky all over the couch. He was so glad Theo was back to being himself. _

"_Still doing Slytherin proud, eh, Potter?"_

_Harry turned to look over the back of the couch and his eyes widened. _

"_Sykes!"_

_Felix Sykes stood there, smirking fondly. He wore a black robe and a Slytherin scarf._

"_What are you doing here?" Harry asked thickly. _

_Sykes shrugged, smiling and sipping from his drink. "Professor Snape invited me back to see the match. He has been…mentoring me, I guess you could say, in regards to my current occupation. He and I will speak later tonight, but I wanted to drop by and see my old classmates. Nice catch, Potter."_

"_Er…thanks," said Harry. "So what do you do, nowadays?"_

"_I work in the Department of Magical Law and Review," Sykes said loftily, inspecting the label of his drink. "It is an auxiliary department that works with the Wizengamot."_

"_Ah," Harry cocked his head. "That doesn't sound very interesting, sorry."_

_He grinned when Sykes looked up, outraged. "You brat," Sykes snorted without malice. "Anyway. That's why I'm here. It's good to see you're doing so well, Potter."_

"_I'm glad to hear you're doing things, too," Harry replied honestly. "I knew you would be, though. You're a smart bloke, Sykes."_

"_Ah, well," Sykes waved dismissively, but the expression on his face was anything but dismissive. "I suppose you are, too. You must be to get away from the Dark Lord, I'd wager."_

_Harry laughed. "I'll gladly take smart. Of course, Sykes, a truly bright person would never get themselves into that type of situation. Not really."_

_Sykes raised his eyebrows, intrigue coloring his face. "Oh? What would a smart person do instead, then?"_

"_I dunno," Harry shook his head modestly. "Perhaps we'll have to get together and discuss it sometime. It must be quite the story."_

_Sykes grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You've turned into quite the Slytherin, Potter."_

"_To the very core." _

_Sykes paused, eyeing him. "I'm going to ruffle your hair, now."_

"_Godammi- fine."_

The frosty wind was much more tolerable when it was being blocked by the thick tree trunks of the Forbidden Forest. Harry kept walking in silence, passing by a familiar root sticking out of the ground. His clearing was just ahead.

Harry had his bag with him, filled with literary resources just in case he needed them. He was fairly sure he had worked out a way to make this ritual successful, though. He would have to brew the potion afterwards, but Snape had already promised to help him with it. What Harry needed to focus on was detaching himself from…_that_.

Harry stepped into the clearing and let his gaze fall the naked man, bound and lying against a tree trunk. Harry merely stared at the man for a moment, unhurried; Charles Crawford was inflicted with a Stunning Curse, after all.

The man had seemed so much…bigger the last time Harry had seen him. Crawford had seemed almost larger than life. He had been Harry's hope. Now, the former football player almost seemed skinny and frail in comparison. Harry could not help but frown.

That would not be good thing – he needed to be the strong man that Harry remembered. That way, Sirius would get the most out of this ritual. That was the only use he had left for Harry.

"_Ennervate_."

Harry flicked his wand flippantly and spared the man no other glance. He set his book bag down at the edge of the clearing and paid Crawford no attention at all as he got to work.

"…Who are you? W-where are my clothes?!"

The man spoke with so much fear that Harry could not help smiling grimly. Emotions were swirling within him, despite his desire to feel nothing for the man.

"…You're very lucky that I was considerate enough to cast a Warming Charm on you. Don't you think you ought to thank me?" Harry called over his shoulder, refusing to look at Crawford until he got his emotions under control. "You'd have caught a cold or worse."

"What are you doing? Where am I? Who _are_ you?!"

Harry cast his wand over the ground and the little pebbles of dirt rose upwards with the motion of his wand, compacting together and creating a makeshift, elongated altar that had a small crevice running down the side of it. "It doesn't really matter, does it Charlie? Why don't you get comfortable and I'll come for you in a moment."

The man was breathing harshly. Harry was not normally the type to enjoy someone else's fear, but from a man who had wronged him so severely?

He could not help but admit that he was enjoying this. At least a little bit.

Harry felt anger more than anything else. There was a little hatred thrown in as well as some bitterness, but there was also sorrow and grief and longing for a life that wasn't so convoluted and difficult. Harry also felt betrayed – why could they have not seen how badly he wanted a family to take him away? Harry had been desperate; _begging_, even.

Harry finished the altar fairly quickly and examined his work with a critical gaze. The altar was fairly rectangular, but Harry had added a sloping ramp to it that ran the length of the crevice. The blood would flow down the altar in that crevice – was it big enough? There would be _a lot_ of blood, after all. Harry brandished his wand and widened the crevice just a bit. The dirt crumbled down the altar and Harry waved it away with another brandish of his wand.

"HELP ME! HELP! HEEEEEELP!"

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed lowly, standing up at last. "Scream all you want, Charlie. No one is going to hear any of it."

Charlie looked up, wide eyed and panicking. "Why are you doing this to me? What are you?!"

Harry felt his head fall to one side, disbelieving the words he had just heard. Did Crawford really not remember who he was? This man was responsible for the most scarring moment in Harry's entire _life, _a moment where Harry had broken into pieces, sobbing and begging to be loved…and the man had the gall to not even remember it? Harry felt a sneer overtake his face and overwhelming anger bubble in his stomach.

On impulse, Harry conjured a soccer ball and tossed it to the man. Charlie flinched away from the ball but could not avoid it as hit his stomach and fell down to settle between his knees. Harry raised a hand and the ball flew through the air, into his waiting arms.

A slow gape over took Charlie's face as he blinked rapidly. "You…you're that kid from the orphanage…"

Harry bowed low, sneering. "Yeah. My name's Harry, by the way. Of course, you ought to remember that."

"Harry, why are you doing this to me? I have a wife! And a – and a –"

"A daughter?" Harry snorted sarcastically. "One that you adopted instead of me? Yeah, I know. None of that makes a lick of difference to me, by the way."

"But I –"

"Would you like to know what I am, Charlie? What it was that I did all those years ago that had you and your wife running for the hills? I'm a wizard, – yes, witches and wizards do, in fact, exist," Harry waggled his wand at the frightened man. "That's what I did when you came to my orphanage, though I didn't know it at the time. And that was apparently enough to warrant fleeing from a fucking child. I did magic."

"Can you blame us?" Crawford cried. "It was scary! It's not normal, seeing someone do…_that_!"

"Of course I can blame you!" Harry growled, gritting his teeth as the man recoiled. "I was a child, Charlie! I was a frightened, miserable child! I was desperate for anyone to love me and I was just learning the extent of what I could do – what I was capable of. You and your wife – I wanted you to love me so badly. I wanted it so fucking _badly_. I _needed_ it! And what did you do? You were a coward! You ran away from a fucking four year-old!"

"For all we knew, we'd just met a demented child! We were both frightened – my wife was shaking like a leaf -"

Harry had had it. Before he knew it, he was shouting.

"I WAS FOUR! FOUR BLOODY FUCKING YEARS OLD, CHARLIE!" Harry roared. "YOU THINK _YOU_ WERE FRIGHTENED? I WAS ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED! I WAS ALL ALONE, LEFT TO ROT IN THAT WRETCHED PLACE FILLED WITH DISGUSTING, WORTHLESS MUGGLES! I WAS JUST A TYKE BEING BULLIED BY ROTTEN CHILDREN! I NEEDED HELP AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TURNED YOUR BACK ON SOMEONE WHO NEEDED YOU!"

"It's not normal," Crawford said vehemently – or as vehemently as someone tied down and stripped of clothing could ever sound. "Your magic is nothing like the fairytales. It's –"

"Oh really?" Harry laughed harshly. He was delirious with anger. "Not like the fairytales? How about I show you something, then? Up you get, Crawford! Let's go!"

Harry fisted the man's hair and shoved him forward. The man's hands were still bound behind his back, but he looked left and right, as if tempted to run.

"Run and they'll never find your body," Harry whispered. "_Move_."

Crawford thought magic was evil, eh? Harry wanted to physically choke him. Evil…evil was more than just a _thing_. Society used evil as a stigma attached to things no one understood. Just like now, for instance. Crawford was doing the exact same thing. The label of evil was attached to things that scared people. But there was nothing to be _scared_ of from magic. The only thing scary about magic was the person casting it.

And Crawford would realize that. He _would_.

They came up upon the tree line swiftly. Harry shoved the man through the trees where he fell.

"Look up, idiot."

Harry watched the man look up and gape stupidly. Yes...that was the reaction Harry wanted.

"You wanted fairytales? Here…this is Hogwarts," Harry said softly. "This is my school. It's a place of magic and it's…amazing. There are so many magical things about it – this forest, for one. Centaurs and unicorns and who knows what else live in here. And the lake is home to Merfolk. And in the castle itself…well. The paintings talk, the staircases move, the candles float on their own accord. It's my _home_. And it's not so scary, is it? Not so evil?"

"…No," Crawford said. He was still staring. "It's beautiful."

"And so is magic," Harry declared. "It's a beautiful thing. Magic is the best thing that's ever happened in my life. The only thing that can make it bad is the people using it…like me, for example."

Harry flicked his wand and Crawford yelped, crashing into a tree. "Get up. We're going back."

"N-no. Please…"

Harry scowled, forcing the man onto his feet and back into the direction of the clearing. "Yes. This is all your fault, I hope you know. You came to an orphanage thinking it was a fucking market. 'Oh look, sweetie! They have low-fat milk for damn near coppers!'"

Harry laughed humorlessly. "It doesn't work that way. Most of those brats were rotten, I'll give you that. But I needed you. I _needed_ you, Charlie."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me. I didn't mean to…"

Harry shoved him along again. "Like I said, I saw your daughter. Cute kid. Does she do well in school? Did you teach her football, Charlie?"

Harry heard the man sniff. He was shaking like a leaf. Harry snorted disgustedly. "You know, Charlie, you're actually in luck. I am not going to kill you, I'm not going to torture you...it's unnecessary for what I want. I mean, I could do it…but I have no real need to, you know? It's like squashing a bug. Sure, it can be satisfying…but then the _mess_ you have to clean up. Is it all worth it in the end?"

Charlie Crawford staggered back into the clearing and Harry followed the man at a leisurely pace. Harry summoned a scrap of parchment from his bag that had the runes he was going to inscribe onto the altar.

"Be a dear, Charlie, and go sit on the altar over there," Harry muttered, examining the runes. The cleansing rune was slightly tricky. He would have to make sure he drew it just so…

"But…but altar? W-what are you going to do to me?!"

Harry looked up, unimpressed. "Go sit over there and I'll tell you all about it. _Go_."

Crawford hesitated. Harry sighed.

"I'm getting sick of staring at your hairy arse so don't make me say it again!" Harry bit out. Crawford jumped and hastened to comply. Harry muttered a curse before getting back to his parchment.

He would be using four runes for this ritual. The first would be a cleansing rune, naturally. That rune would be used to purify the blood as it ran down the altar. The second rune, a transmutation rune, would then transform the blood into a purer version of…well, _life_. And from that, Harry could use the conversion rune and the final rune to make the blood into what Harry needed.

And that final rune…well, that rune could be a number of things. It was a variable Harry had not really accounted for yet.

Crawford was quiet as Harry approached, but the man eyed him with unmasked fear. Harry smiled leeringly at him.

"My godfather was wrongly convicted of a crime that he never committed," Harry muttered lowly, dropping to a knee to start drawing his first rune, the rune for cleansing. "The wizarding government convicted him of killing a dozen people. He was proven innocent, but he's not doing well after his stint in prison. Wizarding prison is not so simple, you see. These creatures called Dementors patrol the prison and trust me, Charlie – you don't want to be around them. They'll make you suffer your darkest emotions and relive your worst memories. Dementors can drive people mad. My godfather withstood them for a decade…but he's not doing well physically. You, Charlie, are going to help me fix that."

"…How?" Charlie whispered. Harry smiled grimly, inspecting his cleansing rune. The crevice running down the altar bisected the cleansing rune and starting the rune for conversion. The dirt was darkened, somehow – as if the dirt itself knew the power that the rune could possess.

"An excellent question," Harry murmured, inscribing the rune for conversion several about a foot underneath the first rune. "You, Charlie Crawford, are a sacrifice."

"Wha-?! No! I don't want - !"

"_Silencio_!" Harry flicked his wand. "_Incarcerous_!"

Crawford was muted immediately as the ropes sprang from Harry's wand. They wrapped around each the Crawford's limbs and forced them apart, drawing him back into an arching position atop the altar, lying on his back. The ropes dug into the dirt, bringing Crawford's wrists and ankles nearly into contact with the soil. Crawford's mouth was open in a silent cry and he squirmed mightily but was unable to break free. Harry flicked his wand once more and the ropes pulled Crawford around to where his legs settled between the crevice and the runes that Harry was currently drawing.

Harry ignored the man's struggles. Instead, he thought hard on what the final rune should be. A rune for strength was an option. It would produce a result much like Harry's own ritual, a result that Harry was quite happy with – he would be hard-pressed to find a student at Hogwarts who was physically stronger than him.

But Harry frowned. He had heard stories of the man Sirius used to be before being sentenced to Azkaban. A man full of vigor and courage and energy. A fearless man full of…life. Now, Harry could only see the remains of that man. He could see the old laugh lines that had deepened Sirius' dimples: Harry could see the crow's feet that complemented Sirius' grey eyes.

But he could also see the strain in Sirius' neck and shoulders when he tried to stand. Harry could see the limp and gritted teeth that were constantly surrounding his godfather; he could tell that everything Sirius did was labored.

Sirius did not need strength; he needed _youth_. That was what Azkaban had truly sapped from him.

Harry flicked his wand to summon his book bag, opened up one of Lucius' books, and retrieved two other items from his bag before banishing it to the edge of the clearing. Harry quickly found the drawing for the rune of youth and started drawing once more.

The rune of youth featured harsh, jagged lines that morphed into smooth, thicker lines. The book had matter-of-factly explained that the rune looked the way it looked because youth was defined by energy, vitality, and life. Life was defined by the highs and lows a person would endure and in youth these highs and lows seem more pronounced. With age, youth gave way to the long, flowing journey of wisdom and experience. Harry thought all of that rot was rubbish, personally. He had no idea if life held "peaks and valleys" or any of the other stuff the book used to describe it. All he knew was that Sirius was in desperate need of youth and vitality to rub away the stains Azkaban had left on him.

"You're evil!"

Harry raised his eyebrows; he must have lost concentration on his spell. No matter, Harry decided as he finished his rune and grasped the chalk he was supposed to sprinkle atop the runes. It was not like Crawford could do anything to stop him.

Harry dusted his hands off by wiping them across his pant legs. He eyed the man, spread-eagled atop the altar.

"Maybe I am," Harry admitted. "Honestly, Charlie, I'm not really interested in putting a label on what I am. I just do what I have to do. I do what I think is best. But know this, Charlie. If you think that I am evil…just remember that it is all your fault. I am who I am because you and your wife spat in my face. I hope you know that."

The man opened his mouth but Harry silenced him again before anything could come out. He took a second to enjoy the silence and finish sprinkling chalk onto the runes before grabbing his bag and removing his ritual knife and a large basin.

"Now, Charlie," Said Harry. "The fun begins. _Signo illem magico_."

Harry brandished his wand before tapping the rune nearest the top of the altar – the Cleansing Rune. Harry inhaled deeply as he felt the magic rush from his wand and into the rune. The Cleansing Rune began to glow a bright, vibrant blue.

"_Signo illem magico_."

Harry did this with each rune, breathing life into the altar that would give his godfather his life back. The Transmutation Rune glowed an unearthly white color before flickering to black. Below, the Conversion Rune was a deep orange; and finally, the Rune of Youth nearest the basin lying below emitted a healthy green color.

Harry's breath was coming a bit short. He did not know if it was because of the magical exertion or because of his own anticipation. There was only one thing left to do.

Harry released his silencing spell. Crawford, who had spent the last few minutes struggling to escape his bonds, immediately started shouting for help.

The man's legs were trembling – and that did not even begin to describe how badly his hands and feet were shaking. Harry could see red markings where the ropes were tying the man down; Crawford was rubbing his skin raw in a desperate attempt to flee.

"If you don't want me to seriously main you, stop struggling," Harry advised. "All I need to do is make one incision."

Crawford lifted his head from where it was dangling off the altar with dread in his eyes. "H-Harry. Harry p-please," His voice was hoarse from screaming. "Please d-don't do this. Please! We're sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! P-please don't hurt me, I beg you! Please!"

Harry tried to swallow, but there was no moisture in his mouth. "So you're sorry, Charlie? You really mean it?"

"Yes! Absolutely! Please, Harry! Untie me and we can talk about all of this and – "

Harry crouched near Crawford's head, smiling grimly. "If you're really sorry, Charlie – "

"I am!"

"- If you're really sorry," Harry pressed on. "There's only one thing you can do to make it up to me."

"I'll do anything you want! Anything, Harry!"

Harry's smile grew dark. "Then you'll go along with this ritual, Charlie," He whispered into the man's ear, using his hand to draw back the man's sweaty hair from his forehead. "You'll help me heal my own godfather."

"W-what? No!"

"I already told you I don't intend to kill you," Harry sighed, standing up. "Stop fighting me if you don't want to be mutilated by the time this is over."

Harry walked around the altar to settle between the man's legs, ignoring the man as he broke into panicked mutterings. Harry reckoned he heard a sob amongst them; he frowned.

"You don't know how much you ought to be thanking me," Harry muttered, swishing his wand. The man's…genitalia flipped over to lie against the man's left leg, safely out of harm's way. Harry did his best put the man's penis out of his mind.

"Here we go," Harry breathed to himself kneeling to the side of the basin and leaning forward.

"_Cruor de cruore, vita de vita_," Harry recited, grazing the knife lightly up the man's right leg. It was crucial to draw blood from the place where Sirius was suffering himself. He started near the knee before working up, higher and higher. "_Admittes mihi omnia quae. Cruore, curabis. Curoris, descendes hostiam. Tuo, Sirius gnascet_!"

Harry slashed mightily into Charlie's groin, just near the hip. Crawford screamed, thrashing in his bonds as Harry sliced deeper, directing the point of the knife into the joint where leg became torso. Harry felt the knife strike bone and saw a flash of white a moment later. Blood began to ooze out of the wound and down the altar. After readjusting and making a vicious swipe towards the outside of the man's hip, blood spewed out of the wound, over the top of the knife to coat Harry's hand and forearm in gore. The blood then continued to flow down the altar.

Harry leant back and rested on his heels, ignoring the blood all over him in favor of watching the blood flow over each of the runes. As the blood passed over the Cleansing Rune, it grew brighter and thinner, running down the altar more freely. The Transmutation Rune changed its color entirely – the blood darkened to a rich red, a color that reminded Harry of a sunset. It changed colors once more as it passed over the final rune, the Rune of Youth to become a deep, dark green.

It was quite the odd sight to see a man, weeping and weakly tugging at his bonds as blood flowed from his body, changed colors _twice_, and drained into a basin. Harry frowned, cocking his head to the side. If the ritual book was to be believed, the wound would shut itself as soon as enough blood –

_Ah_.

The skin of Crawford's leg started glowing and the man cried out again. The skin stretched and crawled over the wound and white light shone forth and illuminated the clearing. Harry squinted and used his forearm to shield his eyes.

The first thing Harry saw was a jagged, gruesome scar on the man's inner thigh. Harry blinked, standing upright; it appeared as if the Charles Crawford had passed out. Harry reached down and picked the basin of green liquid up into his arms. Oddly, the liquid smelled like grass and leafy…things.

Harry smiled; now it was Professor Snape's turn to do the rest.

* * *

Severus Snape snuffed the candle of his desk before arching back in his chair. There was a kink in his neck near his shoulder and if he stretched just so…

"_Ah_…" Severus groaned as the tightness popped. He sat still for a moment with his drowsy eyes closed, breathing deeply. These brats had no idea how much work they put him through. Messy, ineptly essays filled with cluttered and incomplete thoughts took large chunks of time to grade. Honestly, he should just start immediately handing out failing grades when he came across the worst of the bunch. But no…instead, Severus took the time to read and reread, to try to understand the points the students were attempting (and failing) to make. That took _time_.

The students were lucky to have a Professor so invested in their education. Of course, none of them would ever pay enough attention to realize it.

Severus stood, slowly. Finally, it was time to sleep – if he was lucky, he would get a meager five hours before having to wake.

There was a knock on his door. Severus felt his body slouch in frustration as he bit back a violent curse. "Enter."

"Could you open the door for me, please? My hands are full."

Ah. Potter. Severus swished his wand and Potter appeared in the threshold, holding some kind of bowl to his chest.

"I've got it, sir," Potter muttered, walking up to Severus' desk with shuffled steps before placing the bowl down. Severus stayed silent, trying to think on what Potter could possibly be talking about.

Oh. Right. The potion for Black that he had promised the boy. But that meant -

"Sir?" Potter asked, blinking as he noticed Severus' stare.

"Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Potter, that I might be asleep?" Severus bit out, fatigue coloring his voice. Potter frowned.

"I-It did cross my mind, sir," Potter admitted, turning to face him. Severus could only see one side of his face, illuminated by the hearth. "But this ingredient cannot remain in its current condition. It has to be bottled or brewed – "

"Do not lecture me on the qualities of potions ingredients, Potter," Severus snapped. Honestly. "Perhaps it has escaped your attention until now, but I teach the subject."

Potter grinned before ducking his head. "Sorry, sir. I know it is late – but it's the only time I could conduct the ritual. Thank you once again for being willing to help my godfather – "

"It's not for your godfather, Potter," Severus scowled. "It is for you. Get out of here; you'll have your potion before you leave for the winter holidays."

Potter beamed and Severus just wanted to shoo him and go to sleep. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help and I apologize for keeping you awake. I'll have to get you a gift to make up for it."

"The only gift I should like to receive is you leaving my office. Dismissed," Severus pointed to the door, but there was no malice in his voice. Potter nodded, bowing his head before leaving.

'_Well_,' Severus dryly thought as he scooped the basin up to take it into his personal lab. '_There's at least one student that realizes how much work he puts me through._'

He would bottle the ingredient and call it a night. The potion would have to wait until tomorrow.

'_I'll have to ask the boy whose blood this was_,' Severus thought. '_But only after I find a pillow_.'

* * *

**I feel horrible. I had like 80% of that chapter done for nearly two months and I just couldn't finish it up. I don't even really like the chapter, either. Ah, well. Fun stuff is on its way. Real soon. I promise.**

**See you soon, folks! Again, I promise!**


	16. A Dark Lord's Christmas 1

**Hello, folks!**

**I have a chapter here for you that I had to split into two parts. Otherwise, it would have been like 11k words. So this chapter is going to act as one big tease for the chapter to follow.**

**You're welcome! Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 16: A Dark Lord's Christmas Present (1/2)**

"Hello, Harry! Sirius! Harry's back!"

"Mmph?" Harry heard the mumbled word as he dusted the soot from his robes. "Oh hey, Harry! How were Cedric, Fred, and George?"

"Wotcher, Harry!"

"Tonks, Remus," Harry acknowledged them both, beaming as Tonks raised her drink to him from the couch. "They're great, Sirius. We played Exploding Snap and Fred and George pulled a prank on Cedric's parents. Cedric, er…well, his parents are making him clean the kitchen, now. I don't think they're too mad. Hopefully."

Sirius chortled, using his cane as he walked from the kitchen into the den. He had a few biscuits balanced on a napkin in one hand and a drink in the other. "Happy Christmas to him, then! Come sit down! It's time for presents!"

Harry tossed his robe over the back of the sofa and kicked off his shoes, smiling as he looked around the room. Sirius had had a surprise waiting for Harry when the term had ended; his godfather had apparently commissioned for a house to be built. And it was _spectacular_. The house was only one story – that way, it would be easier for Sirius to get around – and very spacious. There was plush, luxurious carpet in nearly every room; Harry made sure to always have his shoes off to really enjoy that part of the house. The walls were painted bright colors – something Harry really appreciated. In all, the house was warm and cozy with lots of open windows and nestled in the middle of a large clearing somewhere in the Forest of Dean.

Harry plopped down on the soft leather sofa opposite side of Remus, who clapped him on the back.

"I didn't know you'd be here today, Tonks," Harry remarked, accepting the drink that Sirius handed him with a smile. Tonks snorted, taking a generous sip from her own goblet.

"Sirius and I haven't gotten much of a chance to catch up, yet – Remus and I thought it'd be a wonderful opportunity to connect with you lot," Tonks nudged Remus.

"Ah, ahem – yes," Remus cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Harry shot a quick, amused glance to his godfather. Sirius was hiding a smile behind his hand. "Nymphadora and I –"

"Tonks, Remus."

"I mean, y-yes, of course," Remus stammered. He wrung his hands in his lap, looking between Harry and Sirius. "Tonks and I, we er – well…"

"We're this," Tonks declared, grasping Remus by the neck and bringing him down for a kiss. Remus feebly protested for a moment before sighing feebly and giving Tonks the kiss that she was clearly going to have.

Harry widened his eyes dramatically towards Sirius. Seriously, they were not just going to let Remus' embarrassment go, were they?!

"…And you thought I'd be okay with this, Remus?" Sirius murmured gravely once the two separated. "You? My cousin? You thought I'd be happy about this?"

Remus blinked rapidly. Harry could see a smirk tugging at the side of Tonks' lips.

"…Of course I am!" Sirius clapped loudly after letting the moment hang. "Of course _we_ are! Aren't we, Harry?"

"Never seen a man so embarrassed to have a snog," Harry muttered dryly. He raised his glass. "Cheers, Remus, Tonks. Good on the both of you."

"I-I…you idiots!" Remus cried, outrage flushing his skin. Tonks started giggling beside him. "I was so nervous and you two are taking the mickey!"

"James would've," Sirius shrugged matter-of-factly, as if that would justify everything. "Lighten up, Moony. We're bloody happy for you, mate! No need to be so secretive and scared – you're amongst friends!"

"First girlfriend I've had in nine years and you two decide that this is the time to rib me," Remus admitted lowly. Harry thought he could see Remus slump forward slightly, as if that were something to be ashamed of.

Sirius waved him off. "It's fine, mate. I mean, it's been over a decade for me! And I was the one sneaking girls up to our dorm all the time! Must've had a collection of knickers by the time Seventh Year rolled around!"

"My thirteen year-old ears," Harry muttered wryly. "I so needed to hear this. Anyway! When did you two get together? How's it been going?"

"It's been great!" Tonks chirped, nudging a smile from Remus. "Remus and I would always talk after Order meetings and sit together during them. It took me a while, but I worked up the courage to ask him out several weeks ago –"

"She had to ask you out, Moony?" Sirius chortled, slapping his knee. "Atta boy!"

"I'm not going to ask a woman nearly fifteen years younger than me out on a date, Sirius!" Remus protested hotly, flushing once more. "Besides, Tonks is wonderful woman who has her life all sorted out. Me, on the other hand…I'm just a –"

Harry cut him off. "Don't you even dare trying to finish that sentence."

Remus ducked his head for a moment, gritting his teeth before squaring his jaw to meet Harry's eyes. "Why? Is it not true?"

"No - because it's stupid to define yourself by something you can't control," Harry disagreed. "Besides, it's not like any of us give a sod if you're a werewolf or not, right Sirius? Tonks?"

"Of course not," Tonks exclaimed. "You're one of the kindest men I've ever met! Do you think one night a month is really going to change any of that?"

Sirius shook his head slowly, eyes shining with pride. "It's never mattered to me, to James, Lily…Harry. We love you, Moony; Tonks couldn't have said it any better."

"It's true, you know," Harry poked Remus in the ribs. Remus' expression was one between sheer embarrassment and happiness.

"I just…I've gotten better with this in the past few years," Remus confessed, sighing and running a hand through the side of his hair. "I don't think I've ever accepted what being a werewolf means. I've just dealt with it and tried to hide it from most people. I'm used to having people look down on me for being a werewolf, of having it cost me jobs. I mean, witches and wizards aren't exactly excited to be around werewolves. So I just…have made myself scarce."

"Well don't do that," said Harry. "It's dumb. None of it matters to us. Can we open presents now?"

They all got a good laugh out of that. Sirius cheerfully waved his wand, sending wrapped packages flying into the living area. Remus leaned in, properly cheered up, to wrap an arm around Harry and whisper in his ear: "Do you have Sirius' gift ready?"

Harry nodded minutely. He had told Remus about the potion that would hopefully cure Sirius. He had made sure to leave out several vital details, of course…like the fact that the magic fueling the potion was as Dark as it got. Harry had told Remus that he had been researching a way to help Sirius and with Professor Snape's help, he had finally found a cure.

Remus had been so proud of him. He had said that Harry reminded him of Sirius and James, doing anything they could to help him through his werewolf transformations. Harry smiled and accepted the praise as modestly as he could.

In reality, Harry was getting a bit conflicted on tip-toeing around Remus. He really needed to sit down with Sirius and work out a way to tell Remus…everything.

And how that would end up going, Harry had no clue. It _had_ to be done though did it not? Harry was sick of keeping part of himself secret.

"You first, Harry! That one's from Royce!" Sirius barked, pointing at the present with black and yellow paper. It looked like a great lump, Harry thought, but he tore into the package anyway. Royce had game tomorrow; otherwise he would be here as well.

It was a robe. Harry drew the lightweight cloth from the package and something landed with a muffled thud against the floor. Harry ignored that for a moment because he suddenly knew what the robe was.

"He sent me a jersey!" Harry exclaimed. It was a brand new Winbourne Wasps jersey with his name on the back! Harry traced the letters reverently for a moment; how awesome would it be to be a professional Quidditch player? Royce said that Harry apparently had a pretty good chance of making it on somewhere – so long as he kept improving, of course. There was also a large photograph of the entire Wasps team all waving merrily. Each of the players had signed the picture, by the looks of it. Harry sat there with a sappy grin on his face before he remembered the item that had fallen to the floor.

Harry reached down and plucked the small Golden Snitch from beside his foot. He turned it over in his hand carefully, smiling as he saw Royce's signature.

"This is awesome," Harry grinned, tossing the Snitch to Sirius as he stood to draw the Winbourne Wasps jersey around him. The cloth was made from a different material than the jerseys at Hogwarts. It felt more professional, somehow. Lightweight and stretchy.

"Royce was over a few days ago, said he caught that Snitch in a game against the Falmouth Falcons," Remus informed him, smiling as he met Harry's eyes. "He said that you'd owe him."

Harry waved him off. "I sent him the Snitch from my last match. I don't know what else he is expecting from me. I'll find something else, though. This jersey is so cool!"

Remus and Tonks each opened their gifts from Sirius next; his godfather had gotten Remus nearly a dozen robes, some for work and some for leisure. They made Remus stammer like a love-bitten teenager. Tonks had accepted the gift graciously for him, of course, and thanked Sirius for her own gift.

Harry sat back and enjoyed the moment. This was one of the only moments where he got to be with the people who he considered family. Surprisingly, Tonks' presence did not detract from the experience at all. Harry smiled; maybe things would work out between Tonks and Remus – and no one deserved that happiness more than Remus.

Harry opened his second present from Remus, which turned out to be a stack of five books. Each of them featured obscure uses and methods of using magic, a subject that Harry instantly perked up at. Remus knew that he had a liking for learning rare magic. The book on the bottom of the pile made Harry pause, however.

"…_Ultimate Transfiguration: Being one with the Beast_?" Harry murmured, looking up uncertainly. "I-is this what I think it is?"

Sirius sat back, tucking his hands behind his head. "If you think that's the book that James and I used to become Animagi…yep!"

"I asked Sirius if he was planning to teach you to become an Animagus and he said he had lost the book," Remus smiled warmly. "Luckily, I found a copy on backorder at Flourish and Blotts. They said they had it reserved for someone else, but when I told them it was a Christmas gift for you, Harry, they let me have it."

"Hooray!" Harry cheered. "Being famous helps sometimes! Thanks Moony!"

"Quite welcome," Remus rubbed him on the back. "You'll have to read the book before Sirius can really teach you. But I'll be honest – that quells in comparison to what Sirius got you."

Harry flicked his eyes to Sirius, who looked altogether too smug.

"Well? Go ahead," Sirius smirked, playfully sweeping a hand to his own present for Harry. Harry shook his head. "No. Open my present first."

"I thought the kid always got to open his presents first," Sirius joked good-naturedly, sitting up all the same. "What is it?"

Harry merely shook his head. "Open it and see for yourself."

Harry watched as Remus leaned over to Tonks and whispered in her ear. Tonks' eyes widened and she looked towards Harry. Remus winked at him.

"A-a potion?" Sirius faltered, pulling the little vial from the box. "What does it do?"

"Do you trust me?" Harry grinned, looking between the deep green potion and his godfather. Sirius cocked his head to the side.

"Well of course, but I don't understand why that really matters right now – "

"Take the potion right before bed," Harry chuckled. "You can thank me in the morning."

"Uh…okay?" Sirius sent a look of complete bewilderment towards Remus. Remus shook his head with a smile.

"I know what it is, Sirius," Remus said. "I can vouch for Harry. Take that before bed."

"I win the gift giving game this year," Harry informed them all. "Gonna just say that right now."

Sirius frowned. "Uh…okay? Will you open my gift now, Harry?"

"Sure!"

Harry knelt on the floor beside the gift, tearing the paper off the box.

The gift was large and apparently rectangular – although magic really made the prospects of guessing a present based on its shape ambiguous. Harry grabbed the top of the box and his jaw dropped.

"You got me a bloody Firebolt?!" Harry exclaimed wildly, snatching the racing broom from the box with pure giddiness. "And they thought Quidditch wasn't fair before! Sirius, you're the best!"

Harry launched himself at his godfather, laughing as they both fell backwards onto the couch. Sirius chuckled, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders and pressing a kiss into his hair.

"If you thought I wouldn't spoil you silly with all the money I have left from my own blasted parents, you're not nearly as smart as your grades suggest you are," Sirius declared, squeezing Harry tight. "Love you, kiddo. Even if it means you'll be beating Gryffindor in Quidditch even worse than before."

"I'm definitely going to be doing that," Harry grinned. "I'll have to wear the shirt Fred and George got me more often."

The twins had gotten Harry a grey shirt with a snake biting a lion on it for Christmas. The shirt also read, "Gryffindor Slayer." Harry had worn it all day yesterday just to tease Remus and Sirius.

"Stupid shirt," Sirius grumbled, smiling despite himself.

"Well it's telling the truth," Harry beamed, rolling off the couch with his new racing broom in hand. He admired the shiny wood of the handle for a moment before sending Sirius a fond look. "Thank you, Sirius."

"Still think you won the gift giving game, Harry?" Sirius smirked. Harry exchanged a glance with Remus.

"Yes," They both answered together.

"Alright, that does it – what does this potion do?" Sirius burst out. The other three could not help but laugh.

* * *

"Night, Harry!"

"Goodnight, Remus, Sirius! Take your potion!"

"What does it do?!"

"Just take it!"

"Ugh…fine!"

"Night!"

There were two simultaneous doors closing and Harry chuckled to himself, walking down the hall to his own bedroom door. He opened it and stepped into the room, leaning his head on the doorframe to laugh for a moment. What a wonderful Christmas Eve filled with friends and family. Harry sagged slightly, enjoying the quiet atmosphere of his room.

For a moment, at least.

"So…Happy Christmas."

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, swiveling around so quickly that his feet tangled together and he stumbled into the wall. "Voldemort! Don't do that! That's bloody terrifying!"

Voldemort was sitting in Harry's desk chair, leaning back casually as if he owned the chair. The Dark Lord cocked an amused eyebrow. "What exactly are you referring to? Don't speak? Don't wish you a wonderful holiday season? Don't visit your room without advance notice?"

"The last bit, obviously," Harry grumbled. "So…hi. Why did you decide scaring me would be the way to celebrate your holiday?"

"Ooooh, I have a much better way to celebrate the holiday," Voldemort chuckled lowly, leaning forward. "But I stopped by for a visit you because I have a gift for you."

"Oh," Harry said dumbly, blinking. "Well…thank you? What is it?"

Voldemort merely gestured over his shoulder to Harry's bed. Harry eyed him for a second before moving in that direction.

"I mean, you didn't even turn any lights on! You just sat at the desk and waited!" Harry cried, unable to keep quiet. "Who does that?"

"Someone who wishes to frighten."

"Aha!" Harry whirled around, pointing an accusing finger. "So you don't deny it?"

Voldemort snorted. "Of course not. I'm Lord Voldemort. Open your present, if you would."

Harry shook his head in bemusement, but did what Voldemort told him to do. Sure enough, there was a black box resting on his queen-sized bed. Harry lifted the lid off the box and pulled out the contents.

"A…robe," Harry remarked neutrally, holding the folded bundle up and looking back at Voldemort. The Dark Lord nodded simply.

"Unfold it," Voldemort suggested.

Harry did what he was told. He laid the robe out on his bed and opened the robe up, revealing a mask.

"Woah," Harry breathed, picking up the mask with reverence.

It was a Death Eater mask…but so much different than the ones Harry had seen Death Eaters wear. It was mainly white, but there were bloody, red smears underneath the eyes. The red smears ran over top the mask's cheekbones before molding into something else entirely. The red turned back to white, then, and the mask rose in sharp, vicious edges, leading down to the jaw line.

The edges…they were not shapes. They were _teeth_.

It looked vicious, dangerous…monstrous. Harry could only imagine how this would look with a cloak drawn up with shadows playing across the mask.

"Put it on and come to me."

"There's no string or anything to hold it in place," Harry protested.

"Magic, Potter. Honestly."

"Right," Harry cringed. Tentatively, he brought the mask to his face. It felt as if a cool breeze was drifting across his face. He closed his eyes briefly and then opened them. He was surprised that the mask did not limit his vision.

"This is – _woah_!" Harry raised a hand to his throat. "My voice – what did you do to this mask?!"

"If you would come here, I could tell you."

Harry turned around quickly, watching as Voldemort's eyes widened and a pleased smile settled on his face. "Marvelous. It looks even better than I had hoped. Only you can take off the mask, by the way."

"What do I look like?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Put the robe on first. Then I shall answer."

Harry gritted his teeth and snatched up the robe. The black robe slid over him easily and settled around his shoulders. Suddenly, Harry felt a sense of vertigo; he closed his eyes and stumbled.

Voldemort was there, wrapping a hand around his shoulder to brace him.

"What…what was that?" Harry shook his head, attempting to clear the cobwebs. He turned and was surprised to see Voldemort at eye level.

"That, Harry, was several weeks' worth of work to disguise you from the world," Voldemort murmured softly. "We can't have the Wizarding World knowing that the Boy-Who-Lived is a follower of Voldemort, can we?"

Harry glance down at himself; the first thing he noticed was that he was taller – nearly Voldemort's height, in fact. Harry was on the tall side for his age, but he was not _this_ tall. He noticed his hands, next; they were a paler, bony white. His fingers were longer, narrower…looking nothing like his real hands.

"Check the mirror," Voldemort grinned dangerously, pointing to the full length mirror Harry had near his closet. Harry stepped up to the mirror and his jaw slung open.

He looked terrifying. The teeth of the mask were much more subtle than Harry had first assumed when he picked up the mask. You could only catch a glimpse of the teeth once he was wearing the mask, but it was enough to repulse. Taking in the changes the robe added, Harry could safely say that he looked nothing like his normal self.

There was something else that had changed as well. His eyes were no longer green. Instead, golden irises stared back at him. Blackness hung in the space between his eyes and the mask, so it looked almost as if the red smears on the mask were actual blood coming from his eyes.

Wordlessly, Voldemort stepped behind him. He clasped the hood of Harry's robe and brought it up to cover Harry's head.

"What the…_fuck_?!"

The mask was barely visible from inside the hood, but it looked as if black smoke was swirling within the robe, completely concealing Harry's neck and torso. Every now and then, a wisp of black smoke would trail out of the robe, feeling around like a tendril before fading away.

"This is…unbelievable," Harry whispered. And it was. This image – Harry could not even connect himself to it. The tall figure, the deeper voice, the golden eyes, the bloody mask with teeth ever so slightly visible through the thick, black smoke…Harry was looking at a demented monster.

"I…I look like a – like a – "

"You look like a man who should not be crossed," Voldemort muttered, idly sweeping dust from Harry's shoulders. "And you look like someone who is trusted by Lord Voldemort."

Harry certainly could not disagree on either point. "So what is this all about," Harry asked tentatively, gently pulling the mask away from his face. It was quite weird to hear his voice change as the mask was removed. "This is obviously meant to be used."

Voldemort examined him closely for a moment. There was seriousness to Voldemort's eyes that had not been there earlier.

"At the dueling tournament, I revealed myself to the Wizarding World once more," Voldemort said at last. "And after our little duel, I have carefully presented myself as if I am not as strong as I used to be. This is intentional, of course; the Death Eaters have strictly limited their raids to Muggle villages."

"What's your reasoning?" Harry asked, tilting his head.

Voldemort smirked, raising two fingers. "Twofold. Firstly, I wanted to elevate you as a hero in their eyes. They see you as someone who can challenge me, now. This will be advantageous to us moving forward. Secondly, I want the Ministry to underestimate me. I do not want them pursuing me. I do not want them making concerted efforts of espionage. And most importantly, I do not want them reaching out to other nations for aid."

Harry nodded. That all made sense.

"…Until now."

Harry furrowed his brow. Voldemort looked infinitely pleased with himself. Harry looked down to the mask before shaking it slightly. "So that's what this is for. Obviously. Something's changed and now you're ready to start showing some muscle. And you want me fighting."

"Yes. On all accounts."

"What changed?"

Voldemort waved his hand vaguely, sitting down in Harry's desk chair once more. "Several things. In all honesty, I simply wanted to toy with Fudge for a while. From my reports, the man is already close to breaking down – and I have done _nothing_ yet. Also, I have made tentative pacts with several groups. There is a group of Belgian witches and wizards who will join us when we require assistance. I have made even more tentative relations with the giants of Great Britain. Fenrir Greyback has control over most of the werewolves. We are starting to piece together a powerful army, Harry."

"Brilliant," Harry beamed. "Hopefully it will not take much. Our priority is still to destroy the power structure of the Ministry, right?"

"Amongst other things, yes," Voldemort waved him off impatiently. "That is not the most immediate concern."

Harry blinked. "Okay. What would that be, then?"

"Our first legitimate raid, Harry," Voldemort sinisterly smiled. "Tonight, we wish the Wizarding World a Merry Christmas my way."

* * *

**Hahaha...I'm a terrible person. I've started the next chapter, so feel free to pester the shit out of me until it comes out. It's gonna be a fun one. **

**If you wanted to know where the inspiration for Harry's mask came from, the answer is that there are two different inspirations for it. The first is the mask of Jack of Blades from the first Fable game. I really loved that game - I especially liked the fact that Jack of Blades' voice actor didn't sound like a villain. That way, when he was finally revealed as an evil bastard, it shocked me a little bit.**

**The second inspiration is my favorite wrestler, Finn Balor. Google "Finn Balor Demon" and you'll fall in love, too. Finn Fucking Balor, man. Congrats on winning the NXT Championship, if you read this.**

**See you soon. Leave me a review, will you?**

**Brigade**


	17. A Dark Lord's Christmas 2

**Hey, everyone! I've got a new chapter for you on Harry Potter's birthday. As well as a pretty major announcement.**

**I have decided to create a page to essentially serve as a tip jar. Obviously, you do not have to pay for my story. I'll NEVER put any of my work behind a pay wall. I don't own Harry Potter. I don't have the legal or moral right to do that. Okay?**

**Okay.**

**Here's the thing. Over the course of writing Enveloped in the Darkness and Embraced by the Darkness, I've received TONS of feedback from you guys. Not only that, but I've received hundreds of thousands of page hits on my stories. That is immensely flattering, I must tell you. But it also made me realize something: I'm writing for a pretty large audience and it really bothers me that I cannot provide more consistent updates. With family issues and a part time job to pay my way through college, time is really sparse.**

**I did some thinking and some math - and I could potentially quit my part time job to write for you guys if the page gains some steam. I want to reach a place where I can consistently provide updates. That page may offer me that opportunity.**

**So...I offer it up to you guys. If you donate to my page, you would be supporting ME, not the story. And god...I'd fucking love you forever for it. I'm pretty tired of working at a golf store - I'd much rather write.**

**Anyway, here's the page. If you want to donate...Fuck. I'll figure something out to repay you. Fan suggested one-shots. Commissioned work. Something. And if not, that's totally cool; thank you so much for reading.**

**www dot dot com / Brigade?ty=h (Remove spaces. And make the dots literal dots. Obviously.)**

**And FINALLY...enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: A Dark Lord's Christmas**

"Good evening, my Inner Circle."

Harry took the time to look around. They were all standing in Voldemort's throne room and Harry was wearing the cloak that Voldemort provided him. He was holding his specialized Death Eater mask loosely by his side. Voldemort had taken his place upon his throne and gestured to his gathered Inner Circle.

"As you might be able to see, one amongst you is notably absent tonight," Voldemort swept out his hand. "Augustus Rookwood will be aiding us in our purpose tonight from inside the Ministry. He will be delaying word from reaching the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In his place…Harry Potter will be joining us in our quest tonight."

Harry met the Inner Circle's gazes with a cocked eyebrow and two-fingered wave. It was funny to see the reactions; in particular, Lucius looked mildly alarmed, Severus appeared annoyed, and Bellatrix Lestrange leered lewdly at him.

Okay, maybe that last one was not so funny. Bellatrix, it seemed, was eager to begin the raid.

"Tonight, we shall offer our presence to the little village of Harbinger's Grove," Voldemort murmured softly, leaning forward slightly on his throne. "I assume most of you know where it is located, yes?"

Harry most assuredly did not.

"Not a clue," Harry said loudly, ignoring a few of the baffled looks he got from some of the Inner Circle. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess it's in England."

"It is northwest of Newcastle, Potter," Voldemort snorted with amusement. "But it is not necessary for you to know this – I shall Side-Long Apparate you to our destination."

Voldemort turned his attention to the rest of the Death Eaters and his expression grew more serious. "Our goal tonight is simple – we will show the Wizarding World that the Death Eaters are a force to truly fear once more. We shall arrive at Harbinger's Grove as a group; from there, we burn the Grove to the ground. Destroy their yards, pillage their homes if you desire. It matters not to me."

Voldemort raised one index finger, holding it threateningly in the air as his voice grew into a drawlingly soft growl. "My only restriction: do not kill any of the witches or wizards who inhabit the village. Do nothing that will cause them permanent physical harm. Curse them if you must, but keep it rather tame. You will only restrain them. We want them alive to spread word of our might."

The Dark Lord stood then, descending the stairs of his throne with a dangerous smirk. "It will only be a matter of time until the Aurors arrive. Rookwood has been tasked with opening a five minute window of time for us to raze the Grove to the ground. The Aurors, however, will be in for a nasty surprise. For the duration of this raid, you will each be working with a fellow Death Eater. Naturally, you will protect each other…but when the Aurors arrive, you will work together to pick them off before they can get organized. The citizens of the Grove will see the generous hand of Lord Voldemort. They will live to tell my tale. For the Aurors…there will be no mercy!"

Some whooped and cheered. Some nodded viciously. Bellatrix cackled and mussed up her hair. Harry stood there, examining his mask. So according to Voldemort, this raid was about sending a message. Harry shrugged involuntarily; he wasn't exactly looking forward to destroying families' houses on the night before Christmas, but this was war. And he had done worse before. And he would do worse in the future.

And they would live to see a newer, greater Wizarding World someday. Harry shrugged again, with indifference this time, and watched as Voldemort paired some of the Death Eaters us. The Dark Lord paired Professor Snape with Barty Crouch, Dolohov with Mulciber, and he paired the two Lestrange brothers together.

"Lucius, you shall be with me," Voldemort declared. Lucius bowed low, murmuring his thanks in an even lower voice. "When the Aurors arrive, you will be tasked with impeding their movement. That is all I require."

"Naturally, My Lord," Lucius agreed.

"And that leaves…Harry and Bellatrix together," Voldemort's lip quirked in subtle amusement as Bellatrix leaned forward, sending a mocking wave to Harry. "My my, I am interested to see how this works out. One might call me mad for pairing you two, but I'd prefer to think you two can get along, hmm?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that we got along splendidly," he said. "I'm sure Bellatrix and I will be fine."

Bellatrix burst out in salacious laughter, clutching her bosom. "Fine, he says! Little Harry Potter…we will be more than fine! We will bathe in the blood of light wizards tonight! We will tear their hearts out, crush their bones, revel in their broken cries! We shall – "

"Enough," Voldemort drawled mildly, though his amused tone suggested that he could listen to her go on for much longer. "Harry is only thirteen, Bellatrix, after all. We wouldn't want to scar him, would we?"

Harry rolled his eyes as spectacularly as he could muster. "Scar me…as if you could."

"Oh, I could," Voldemort murmured, swiftly walking up to Harry. "I most definitely could, Harry. And in any way I pleased – physically, mentally, emotionally – "

"Empty threats from you again?" Harry smirked, folding his hands. "I seem to recall you doing this all the time in my first year. I'd love to see you _try_."

Harry would not have said that if he could not see the humor in Voldemort's eyes. The Dark Lord stared at Harry, eye to eye in silence for a moment, before he patted him on the shoulder and turning around.

"I will infuse each of your Dark Marks with my magic – and for Harry, your ring," Voldemort declared. "They shall act as your Portkey, bringing you safely back to my mansion. You shall activate them when I cast my Dark Mark into the sky."

"There are Portkey wards, you know," Harry pointed out. Voldemort turned his head slightly in Harry's direction.

"There's something else I said to you in your first year, Potter, that would refute your claim," Voldemort growled, smirking. "'It still applies today and it is this: I am the _fucking_ Dark Lord Voldemort. If you think mere Portkey wards can contain my magic, you are woefully mistaken. Lineup in front of my throne, my Inner Circle; I will infuse your Dark Marks with my magic."

Huh. Harry blinked before grinning, getting in the back of the line.

"You do know that Our Lord would gruesomely murder anyone else who attempted to speak and act as you do in his presence, right?" Crouch muttered from behind him. Harry shrugged.

"I do," Harry said simply. "He was in my head for nearly a year, you know. I think that was enough time for us to really start to understand each other. He knows I mean nothing sinister by it – I just like to keep things interesting and light-hearted. I think he appreciates it."

"We're the Death Eaters," Crouch declared with a furrowed brow. "Light-hearted isn't our thing. If that's what you're looking for –"

Harry shook his head, chuckling softly. "Oh, you misunderstand me, Barty. I keep it light-hearted because I'm sick of being bitter and resentful towards the world. I was a bitter little child before Voldemort helped me turn those feelings into something constructive. We're changing things for the better, now. That isn't to say that I don't have the stomach to handle the darker side of things…far from it."

Harry turned and flicked his passive gaze towards the older man. "I think that's why Voldemort and I understand each other so well. He knows how far I can go when the situation calls for it. You'll see that tonight."

* * *

The bitter wind stabbed at Harry's face before he placed his mask on; the arctic wind was coming from off the coast a few miles away. He raised his head and looked impassively on the little village of Harbinger's Grove.

It was nestled in a small wooded area – much easier to ward from trespassing Muggles. There were nearly two dozen houses, looking quaint and pleasant, situated around a clearing of grass that acted as the village's center. A marble statue of a wizard stood in the grass, wand drawn.

Unfortunately, it could do nothing to defend the small village.

A small sliver of the moon granted them just enough light to see the houses clearly. Harry breathed deeply, pulled the hood of his cloak up, and –

"Wakey, wakey, everyone! _Bombarda_!"

Bellatrix cackled, sprinting forward before any of the other Death Eaters could truly enter the village. Harry shot Voldemort a quick, bemused glace.

The Dark Lord gestured for him to follow Bellatrix, amusement glittering in his eyes.

Bloody git.

Harry trotted after the unhinged Death Eater as Bellatrix started ripping the sod from the ground, smashing windows, and splintering wood from the houses.

"Come, Potter, make yourself useful!" She cackled, whirling around to face him. Her beautiful face was sharpened and distorted into an ugly thing. Her eyes danced with bloodlust, teeth clenched into a brutal grin.

"I'm saving my magic for the Aurors," Harry muttered dryly. "By all means, keep destroying things. I'll watch for the first sign of them."

"No fun at all, are you?" Bellatrix tittered. Harry shrugged.

"I'm plenty of fun," Harry disagreed. "I just wait for the right moments."

"_INCARCEROUS_!"

A spell shot out from one of the houses near Harry, jetting towards Snape. Snape deflected the spell, naturally, but Harry turned to face the house.

"…Like now, for instance," Harry informed Bellatrix. "_Aperientis_!"

The front wall of the home broke open, crumbling to dust. A man in pajama trousers stood there, shakily holding a wand. Harry walked forward to meet the man.

"Why don't you put that wand down?" Harry suggested mildly. "Trust me – you and your family will be much better off."

The man gulped, eyes wide. "Who are you?! What are you doing here?!"

Harry resisted the urge to sigh. Was that not obvious? "Don't you worry about who I am. As for what we're doing…we are the Death Eaters and that seems pretty apparent."

"Death Eaters?" The man yelped. "But that means…He-Who-Must-"

"- Not-Be-Named, yeah, yeah," Harry gestured impatiently with his wand. "And he's here. So if I were you, I'd grab your family and do your best not to anger him, eh?"

"_Stupefy_!"

Harry batted the red spell aside with ease, turning to face the new threat – a woman, crouched low on the stairs of the opened house. Harry narrowed his eyes; he had not seen her in the darkness.

Harry gestured to the witch, looking back at the man. "…Is this your wife?"

The man nodded after a moment's hesitation.

"Well," Harry said neutrally, pausing for a moment. "It seems she's made a terrible mistake, hasn't she? _Fractus Occillarous_!"

The stairs crumbled around the witch, who cried with fright and surprise. The man shouted in fear as well, but Harry watched neutrally as the woman fell into the stairs and they smashed on top of her, leaving her buried in a mass of wood.

"_Incarcerous_. _Silencio_."

The man was quickly bound by the black ropes, falling to the ground with a mighty crash. Harry approached him swiftly, gripping the man by the neck when he failed to cooperate.

"Listen to me!" Harry hissed. The man stopped struggling for a moment. "I didn't kill your stupid wife and I'm not going to kill you. So listen up: do you have children in this house?"

The man nodded reluctantly after a moment, pleading to Harry with his eyes. "Okay. I'm going to find them and take you all out of the house. If you stop causing problems, I can promise you your safety. Sound good?"

The man looked to be near tears. Harry patted him dryly on the shoulder. "See? Not so hard."

The children – a small boy and an even smaller girl – we're hiding in a closet upstairs. Harry bound them as gently as he could before taking them to their parents. Harry rescued the unconscious woman from the pile of rubble and levitated them all out of the house – he even made sure the children were nestled into their parents' sides.

When Harry stepped from the house, he blinked in surprise. Many of the houses were ablaze. The Death Eaters had rounded up what appeared to be all the residents of the village. Harry took his captives with him to place with the rest of the group.

"_Crucio_!"

An agonized scream pierced through the dull roar of the fire surrounding them. Harry watched for just a moment before stepping to Bellatrix and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Enough," Harry growled.

Bellatrix whirled to face him. "I will do as I please, Potter. Let go of me!"

Harry shook his head, gritting his teeth behind the mask. "Voldemort said not to harm any of the villagers."

Bellatrix bared her teeth like a rabid animal. "_My_ Lord said not to _kill_. He said nothing about not having some fun."

Harry wanted to punch her. Why on earth was she arguing semantics? The point of this raid was to send a message. Did she not get that? Voldemort's goal was to _rule_ the Wizarding World, not to destroy it!

He could imagine what this looked like to the other Death Eaters. Dolohov and Mulciber were standing near their own captives, watching the exchange between Harry and Bellatrix. So were Crouch and Snape. But Harry could not care less. Anger was bubbling in his veins – more smoke was released from the neck of his robe.

"Did he?" Harry whispered. He was afraid his voice would shake. "Well then, Bellatrix – _I'm_ telling you not to do it."

Bellatrix gasped softly, tilting her head in rage. "And who are _you_ to tell me what to do, Potter? You think you hold power over me? You fool!"

Harry was just about to raise his wand, to show Bellatrix that he _did_ in fact hold power over her, thank you very much, but multiple cracks signaled the arrival of the Aurors.

"Let me show you how it's done, bitch," Harry spun to his right, snapping his wand at the Auror who had just arrived.

Harry knew him - Cadmus Baker. He was a relatively young Auror that Harry had met when Fudge had introduced him to the Auror corps. And Baker was not much of a duelist.

"_Sectumsempra_!"

Blood splattered from Baker's ribcage before the man could even register what had happened to him. Harry watched with grim satisfaction as the man fell to the ground, gasping for air. It seemed that Harry's curse had cut into the man's lung.

The pops of Apparition were coming faster, now. The small handful Aurors quickly outnumbered them before Harry could even blink. He counted at least double the amount of Aurors than Death Eaters. Bellatrix was off shooting curses and hexes without a thought. Harry backed up until he was behind her, covering her weak side.

"Slow down!" Harry muttered angrily. "We need to communicate if we're going to handle this!"

Bellatrix cackled. "Go fuck yourself, little Potter! _Avada Kedavra_!"

An Auror leapt frantically out of the path of Bellatrix's Killing Curse. Harry hit the man with an Impediment Jinx.

"It's Bellatrix Lestrange!" One of the Aurors shouted. "Target her! We cannot let her get away!"

Harry looked around quickly, deflecting an impressively complicated spell from one of the Aurors. Bellatrix had her mask on, now, but she really was easy to spot with her wild hair and decidedly feminine physique. The Aurors had quickly surrounded them, cutting them off from the main group of Death Eaters. If Harry had to wager, they probably had done the same thing to Voldemort and Lucius.

Harry flicked his wand, raising the earth in front of him to block another spell. With another slash of his wand, the ground turned molten, hot as the fire that surrounded them all.

"_Expulso_!"

The molten mass of magma splattered in every direction, forcing the numerous Aurors surrounding them to take defensive measures. Harry took the opportunity.

"_Imperio_!"

'Kill all the Aurors,' Harry willed the Auror. He had never met this witch which meant she probably was not that important. She put up next to no fight against his Imperius Curse.

"_Sectumsempra_! _Arma_ _Diruptia_! _Impedimenta_! Bellatrix! On your right!"

"Got it! _Cruenta_ _Flagrante_! _Avada_ _Kedavra_! _Protego_! Potter - !"

"Don't call me that, idiot!" Harry cried. "That's what the bloody mask is for!"

Despite that little hiccup, Harry thought they were doing quite well. Of the eight Aurors who had surrounded them, four were now dead – or at least not getting up. Another two had joined in the fight.

"_Lacero_!"

Harry's Cutting Curse hit low, slicing easily through the poor sod's shield and legs. The man howled as his leg severed in two under his knee. Harry disarmed and stunned the man with ease after that.

"Focus the one in the mask!" A voice growled. Harry wrapped an arm around Bellatrix and spun them, moving to face the man who had spoken.

Scrimegour. The grizzled old Auror stood in a hunched position. Harry mentally scorned the man; did he not know how vulnerable that stance made him? He would have next to no ability to move laterally.

"Focus the one in the mask, eh?" Harry called out goadingly. "Rufus Scrimegour, you might not like how that works for you!"

"You will die tonight, Death Eater!" Scrimegour growled, launching a nasty hex at Harry – luckily, Harry knew how to divert it. "I will not stand for this! We will not have another war!"

"Oh trust me! It won't be much of one!" Harry laughed, blocking another curse. "_Compesio_!"

A golden chain snaked from Harry's wand, slithering through the air with ease. Scrimegour tried to hex the chain, but Harry steered it to safety before plunging it into the ground at Scrimegour's feet. Scrimegour gave a confused look for a moment before going on offense again.

Underneath his mask, Harry grinned.

Harry baited the other man, backing up slightly until he was nearly back to back with Bellatrix. Scrimegour stepped forward, pushing his luck.

He never saw the golden chain wrap itself to his feet before it was too late.

"_Arma_ _Diruptia_!" Harry cried, pointing his wand to the ground behind Scrimegour. The hunched Auror's eyes widened comically before the spell exploded with a mighty force. Scrimegour was launched into the air; Harry could hear his legs snap when the chain wrenched him back.

Harry leapt on top of the man. Scrimegour was moaning in pain, writhing. His wand was on the ground some twenty yards away.

"Harry Potter sends his regards," Harry whispered. "This is for Remus, arsehole. _Sectumsempra_."

Scrimegour's throat split completely open. Harry grimaced, seeing the man's trachea exposed. Muscles spasmed as the blood flowed freely, pooling in the crevice of his neck and spurting all over his chin and jawline. Scrimegour clawed at his throat, trying to close the wound. It was in vain.

"Get over here!"

Harry leapt up; Bellatrix was calling out to him. He sprinted back to her where she was fighting three Aurors on her own.

"_Bombarda_!" Harry cried, opening his off hand as well as his wand. The spell erupted, sending all three Aurors through the air where they crashed on their backs with mighty thuds. Harry turned to face Bellatrix, laughing.

"And you were struggling with them?" Harry chuckled. "Please."

Bellatrix's black eyes darkened with rage. She let out a guttural noise of anger -

"_Morsemorde_!"

Voldemort's voice rang out over the raging battlefield. Harry looked up quickly to see the Dark Mark appear, the snake slithering into position inside the skull. Underneath, a message appeared in Voldemort's spiky script:

_Harbinger's Grove was not safe. You're not safe. The Ministry cannot protect you. Run._

Bellatrix crouched low, looking quickly to Harry. Harry twisted his ring, feeling the tug behind his navel that signaled a successful Portkey. But before his feet left the ground, he saw as Bellatrix turned to the captives, shooting off a blood red spell in their direction –

The world whirled around him, spinning and Harry closed his eyes, gritting his teeth.

There were whoops of joy surrounding him, cheers of success. Harry looked up; they were standing in the middle of Voldemort's entrance hall. Voldemort stood off to the side with a very satisfied smirk on his face; his hair was slightly disheveled, but there was no other indication that Voldemort had ever been in a fight.

Bellatrix staggered, cackling like a banshee as she appeared. She was clutching her stomach in laughter and Harry felt anger take him again. He wrenched the mask from his face.

"Bellatrix, you bitch!" He shouted, breaking through the happiness of the other Death Eaters. "Voldemort said not to kill any hostages, dammit!"

Bellatrix bared her teeth and her tongue lolled out. "You shouldn't have provoked me then, should you, Potter?"

"_Crucio_!"

Bellatrix gasped and spun out of the way, fumbling to get her wand out. Harry surged forward, lifting her off her feet and slamming her into the wall. Bellatrix's wand skittered across the ground, far out of reach.

"POTTER!"

Harry stilled for just a moment. Hatred coursed through his body as he had one hand clenched around Bellatrix's throat; the other hand held his wand, stabbing her belly with it.

"Put her down, Harry," Voldemort ordered. Silence reigned in the entry hall.

Harry cocked his head, sneering at Bellatrix. Her heavy lidded eyes looked at him in surprise and a small amount of fear. That egged on his anger. How…how dare she underestimate him?

"Aren't we trying to make this world a better place?" Harry asked shakily. His voice was wavering with emotion, quiet but clearly heard in the entrance hall. None of the Death Eaters made a sound. "Isn't that what this is all about? All of it! We want to fix our bloody society, to improve it! We should be fixing these things – not making them worse!"

"N-no one's going to care about a dead Mudblood, Potter. You _weak_ -" Bellatrix gasped around Harry's hand. He punched her in the face for it.

"Potter!" Voldemort barked sharply. Harry twitched, but he stayed strong, holding Bellatrix up by the neck. "…You have said your part and made a valid point, but this is not the time; death is a part of our revolution. Release her. _Now_."

Harry gritted his teeth, but made no move to do what Voldemort commanded.

"If you kill her, Potter, I'll be forced to kill you as well."

That got his attention. Voldemort's voice was low, flat, and dangerous. Harry had not heard Voldemort speak to him in that tone for a long, long time.

Harry whirled around and dropped Bellatrix to the floor without a care. He marched right up to Voldemort, who looked at him impassively. His red eyes were narrowed slightly and Harry felt hot with rage – it was unbearable, unendurable.

"Oh…you'll kill me, will you?" Harry's eyes blazed, his throat burned. "Well then…I'd like to see you try. _Sectumsempra_!"

Professor Snape's spell sliced Bellatrix open from her bosom to her leg. There were several shouts of surprise and protest, but Harry ignored them all. He looked Voldemort in the eye, daring him to do something. Voldemort merely stared at him, but his red eyes were not angry. Disappointed, perhaps.

Harry sneered at him and Apparated on the spot. The chaos of Voldemort's mansion gave way to his dark, quiet bedroom with little fanfare. Harry immediately ripped his new robe off, crammed it brutally into the closet, and flopped down on his bed in favor of staring vacantly through the darkness at the ceiling.

Everything was running together in his mind. The blur of tonight's raid, the memories of hurting Muggles in his past. Emotions swelled around him, nearly lifting him off his mattress. Harry scrubbed harshly at his eyes until he could see spots in his vision. Since when did killing people upset him so much?

Or _was_ it about killing? It could not be, right? He killed the Aurors tonight without a problem. What made the hostage any different?

Harry breathed in deeply, sighing as he let the breath out. He would reason out no answers tonight. Harry's thoughts took an abrupt turn to those closest to him. Sirius was clearly against Voldemort's methods, even if he had agreed to become a neutral force. Remus, however, was steadfastly on Dumbledore's side of the war. And Harry had friends on either side of the war – it was a _nightmare_. How was he supposed to protect everyone and keep them safe?

For Harry, the best outcome for this upcoming war was a quick, decisive victory. Tonight was the true start of that war.

And Bellatrix was fucking _all of that _up by killing helpless civilians.

Harry rolled over viciously. He vaguely wondered if Voldemort would come for him any minute now. Would Voldemort be angry? Would he rant and rave? Demand an apology?

Harry never found out; the Dark Lord did not come.

* * *

"Ooof! Ouch! Gerroff!"

"Wake up, kiddo! It's Christmas!"

Harry blearily glared at the bright blob that was the Sirius. Harry scrubbed at his eyes a bit and his godfather came into focus.

"Morning," Harry muttered dryly, his voice raspy from not enough sleep. Sirius laughed happily, grasping Harry by the wrist and forcefully pulling him from his warm bed.

"Bloody – it's cold! Why would you do that?! At least get me my nightgown!"

"Gladly," Sirius beamed, swiftly leaping to the other side of the room with a deft twirl and tossing Harry his robe. Harry wrapped it around himself, muttering to himself about is excitable godfather –

And then it hit him. Harry paused, looked up, and grinned widely.

"It worked!" Harry exclaimed, jumping on the balls of his feet. Sirius nodded vigorously and swept Harry up in a tight hug.

"That potion tasted foul," Sirius murmured gruffly, ruffling Harry's hair. "But you said to take it and trust you. Remus told me to as well. Gosh, am I ever glad I listened! I woke up feeling so good - better than I ever have. You cured me, kiddo; you did what the Healers couldn't! What did you do? How did you know?! I…thank you so much, Harry."

"You're welcome," Harry said, muffled into Sirius' chest. He stepped back at arm's length. "Let me look at you! Wow! You look so…young!"

The crow's feet at Sirius' eyes were much smoother. The bags under his eyes had disappeared. Sirius stood straight with broader, drawn back shoulders; his stomach trim and strong. Even his black hair seemed much thicker, curling more around his face and down the back of his neck.

"The ladies are in trouble," Sirius declared gleefully, striking an outrageous pose. "C'mon! Let's go downstairs! I've got to show Moony!"

Harry laughed, quickly trailing after his godfather. Sirius dashed down the stairs, whooping with cheer as he blew past Remus and out the front door of the house.

"…So the potion worked, I see," Remus muttered dryly, running a hand through his hair and sipping slowly from his mug of coffee. Remus' voice was deep and raspy from sleep. "Well done, Harry."

Harry could not stop smiling, so he nodded his thanks. "I'm so happy it worked."

Remus walked over to clasp an arm around Harry, steering him to the front door. Harry couldn't help but chuckle as he saw Sirius out in the yard, leaping merrily through the snow in his Animagus form.

Harry heard Remus let out a long, whimsical sigh, smiling over top of his mug. "Magic is amazing."

Harry felt a gentle, small smile slide across his face. "Yeah…it's a miracle." Sirius leapt particularly high then, falling into a snow bank and rolling around. Remus could not help but chuckle.

"This is remarkable – he's like a child!" Remus chortled before growing more somber. "Though I suppose he never got the chance to grow up, stuck in Azkaban."

"Does anyone grow up?" Harry pointed out, looking at his Defense professor. Remus frowned for a moment, turning to eye Harry.

"You know…I don't suppose we do," Remus declared. "We just…lose it. Adults have to deal with more stuff and there's just no time. Jobs, kids, responsibilities…"

"- Winning wars," Harry sighed, nodding a bit to himself. "I think I understand."

They stood there in comfortable silence despite their grave musings, content to watch Padfoot frolic in the fields.

"So where did you find that potion, again?" Remus suddenly said, taking another sip and eyeing Harry from above the rim of his mug. Harry could only shrug.

"Library," Harry said evasively. "I had to ask around my house and I tried to see if anyone had a book or something that could help me cure Sirius. I finally found a way with that potion."

Remus was silent for a moment. Harry wrapped his nightgown around himself even tighter to fight the cold.

"You know, Harry, I'm not sure if –" Remus began, but was halted by an owl flying their way. Harry squinted, shielding his eyes from the whiteness of the clouds. The brown owl flew over the snow, over Sirius galloping across the yard, and dropped a newspaper at Remus' feet.

"Oh…my, no," Remus whispered, dropping his mug. Harry saw the obscenely large headlines atop the fold of the paper and he could not help but flinch:

**DEATH EATERS ATTACK HARBINGER'S GROVE**

**NINE AURORS, ONE CIVILLIAN DEAD; HARBINGER'S GROVE BURNT TO THE GROUND**

There was a picture of Voldemort's Dark Mark and message left above the burning Grove. Harry grimaced, staring off into the distance for a moment. Remus sighed shakily.

"This is…horrible," Remus said simply. "It's starting again. Those poor people – on Christmas, no less. This cannot happen. Not again."

Harry stayed silent. What could he say? He cast a furtive glace at the paper – there was an article about Voldemort below the fold of the front page, as well as another headline that caught his eye:

**BELLATRIX LESTRANGE, NEW 'FANGED' DEATH EATER RESPONSIBLE FOR MOST DEATHS, SOURCES CLAIM.**

"New Death Eater…" Remus trailed off, muttering to himself.

Suddenly, Harry heard the hearth flare to life. He took his opportunity and fled back into the house to greet their visitor, happy to get away from Remus' somber thoughts and the implications they brought.

"…Theo?" Harry started. Theo was standing there in front of the fire, arms crossed around his midsection. The boy jumped, looked up. Theo's eyes trailed over him swiftly, as if in search for some kind of threat.

"Harry…" He started, swallowing heavily. Harry walked swiftly up to Theo, wrapping an arm around his friend. Theo leaned into him, ducking his head into the crevice of Harry's arm.

"I…did it," Theo muttered, in a daze. "I killed him. My father."

* * *

**...Well hello there. Another cliffhanger? I'm pretty fucking good at them.**

**I'll try to get an update out as quickly as possible. I bet that page is looking tempting now, isn't it? =b**

**(Seriously though. I kid. Love all of you.)**

**Brigade**


	18. Hard Lessons

**Hi. Yes, this is real life. I promise. This is a real chapter for you. Seriously.**

**What's up?! Long time no see. Life's been rough lately, guys. I'm sorry. I'm babysitting my nieces 5 days a week, going to college, and helping my father with his new store. It's just been rough to find any time to write.**

**I created that page and I've just done nothing with it so far - and why should I? I've put out no chapters since then. (Well, except for my other story. You should totally read Door to Number Twelve, by the way.)**

**Going forward, I'll start using that as a tip jar. If you want to help support me, that'd be awesome and I'll find a way to reward those who help me in return. I'll commission one-shot stories for you or something. But I'm going to start using that page and any tips would be most welcome.**

**But let's get back to this story! Last time we met, Harry had just gotten in hot water with Voldemort and Theo had killed his father. What happens now?**

**You'll have to read the chapter for that, silly. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Hard Lessons**

Harry felt his breath leave him as Theo clutched him tighter. Theo had…had _killed_ his father? When? How? And most importantly…why?

But Theo had come to Harry first, apparently, and Harry felt a surge of protectiveness rise inside him.

"It's okay," Harry murmured softly, patting Theo's back. "Breathe. We'll take care of this. It'll all be okay."

In all honesty, Harry had no idea if it would be okay. Theo _killed_ his father. But Harry would do everything he could to keep his friend safe.

"I'm scared, Harry," Theo's voice was muffled by Harry's dressing gown. "I didn't…I didn't have a _choice_. I didn't want to –"

Harry shushed him, gently rubbing Theo's neck. "I know. I know you wouldn't do it if you didn't have to. Now why don't you tell me – "

"Harry, we – oh. Hello, Theo."

Theo looked up with wide eyes as Remus entered the den, blinking.

"Theo came over to say Happy Christmas, didn't you, Theo?" Harry quickly interjected, shaking Theo by the shoulder. Theo nodded wordlessly. "A-and he also wanted to invite me to breakfast at his place. That's okay with you, right Remus?"

Remus frowned, looking between the two. "Dressed like that? That's a question you really ought to ask Padfoot, Harry. He's the one who – "

"Theo's father doesn't mind," Harry quickly said before shrugging slightly. His nerves were slowly coming back to him. "But Sirius is having so much fun outside. I don't want to be the one to call him back inside, do you? I won't be gone long. Please, Remus?"

There was a bit of a pause before Remus smiled slightly and beckoned them with his coffee mug. "Go on. I'll tell Sirius where you went. Be back by lunch."

"Okay!" Harry chirped. "Go on, Theo. You first."

Theo sent him a quick horrified look and Harry gave his best encouraging smile to placate his friend. Theo's hand trembled as he grasped some Floo Powder, but nonetheless stepped into the emerald fire.

"House of Nott!"

Harry grimaced at the formality of Theo's Floo address, but Theo was gone in a flash and Harry sighed in relief; dealing with Remus would be much easier on his own.

"Is everything okay with Theo?" Remus spoke up, setting his mug down on a nearby side table. "He seemed a bit tense."

'_But it won't be easy if he keeps asking questions like that_,' Harry grimaced, thinking fast. "Yeah, he did. I-I think he's a bit lonely this morning. His dad's not been around much this holiday."

Remus pursed his lips, shaking his head. "That's…unfortunate. You'd think parents would be a bit more involved in their kids' lives. If I were able to have children, I – "

Harry quirked his head; he could not let that one go without saying something. "Able?" Harry interrupted him with a raised hand. "Of course you're able, aren't you? Unless there's something I don't know about …?"

Remus scrunched his face in embarrassment. "I mean I'm _able_, to the best of my knowledge, but with me being what I am, having children is just not an – "

"Sod that," Harry rolled his eyes. "You think way too much of your 'condition,' Remus. No one around you cares one bit about it. Being a werewolf does absolutely nothing to define you. It's one bloody night a month. Not even a half a day. Now keep up that type of thinking and I'll be forced to write Royce and bring him to have a talk with you."

"Shut it, Harry," Remus' face was flushed, but Harry's words seemed to break through to him. "Go have fun with your friend; now's certainly not the time for a conversation like this."

"But it's Christmas," Harry protested. "If you're going to let being a werewolf get you down on bloody Christmas, then it's the perfect time to have this conversation. Go find Sirius and have some fun yourself, okay?"

Remus frowned for a moment, but seemed to take Harry's words to heart. "Sure, Harry. If he ever decides to come inside, that is."

Harry beamed, scooping up some Floo Powder and tossing it into the grate.

"And just think," Harry snickered, turning his head back to Remus. "If Sirius wants to stay outside, I'm sure Tonks wouldn't mind being called on to…have some _fun_."

"Why you - !"

"House of Nott!"

Harry's laugh was lost in the Floo Network as colors swirled and his stomach did a somersault. His body was twisting and the hem of his dressing gown scuffed the Floo's walling. His heels suddenly found solid ground and Harry staggered forth, grasping the edge of the dining room table in front of him.

What a doozy of a ride. He huffed slightly, raising his head to find Theo –

"Oh my…_god_."

The Nott dining room was dark and still. There was spell damage all around the room and the spicy, biting odor of alcohol wafted through the air. One of the portraits on the wall was singed and a large chunk of the dining room table was missing.

But none of that was what had caught Harry's attention, however. No…it was the blood.

Blood was splattered on a side wall, on two chairs, on the table…and there was a large pool of it under the table, seeping ever closer to the fireplace. Harry took a wordless step to the side to avoid it. Nott Sr. was face down on the floor, but the shiny glint of metal caught Harry's attention. He furrowed his brow until he could tell what the object was.

"…A sword? I-is that your ring, Theo?"

It had to be, Harry thought. Theo had bought that ring that could morph into a sword at the start of the year from Borgin and Burkes. Theo was standing off to the cleanest corner of the room, burying his face into it to avoid looking at the scene. Theo nodded feebly.

"What…happened, exactly?"

"…My father called me into the room this morning. I knew right away something was wrong. He was wearing his Death Eater stuff but he was a mess. H-he was drunk - mad! He shouted at me, said something about a raid the Dark Lord was doing and how he had been punished. He…he hit me – "

"- No…" Harry gasped, disbelieving. It shocked him to think that a father would _ever_ do that to their son. His orphanage had been different – those people were vile. But this man was a wizard! A successful man with a son who _mattered_, who was Harry's friend –

"He hit me," Theo repeated, clearing his throat when it wavered. "And then he pulled his wand on me. H-he…he tried to hit me with the Cruciatus and some other spell I didn't know. He said he'd kill me! I-I panicked! I didn't mean to do this!"

Harry breathed out shakily, running a hurried hand through his hair. "You used your sword to protect yourself, Theo. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Don't think one more thought on it, okay?"

Theo pursed his lips and wrapped his arms around himself. The pleading expression on his face tore Harry up inside.

Harry turned from Theo to get a look at the situation. Getting rid of the body would not necessarily be difficult, but it would do nothing to solve the issue of Cantankerous Nott being _dead_. The man must have had someone who would miss him, right? Harry could not recall if Nott was a member of any political groups or anything, but it was almost a sure thing that he was. Besides, Nott did work, as far as Harry could assume. Nott would have business partners, clients…_something_.

He was also a Death Eater – Harry shut his eyes as the inevitable solution washed over him and unrest settled in his stomach. He simply did not have the power to solve all of Theo's problems. He did not have the means to cover up Nott's death…but Voldemort did.

Harry approached Theo, careful to avoid the blood splatter on the ground, and wrapped an arm around Theo's tensed shoulders. He gently massaged his friend's neck.

"I'm going to take you to Voldemort again, okay?" Harry whispered. "I could clean all of this up, but I wouldn't be able to protect you like Voldemort can."

Theo remained silent and had his eyes shut. Harry sighed, straightening himself in preparation of Apparating. Harry had hoped he would not have to talk to Voldemort for a while after…last night. That plan was clearly out the window.

This would be _horrible_.

* * *

"Enter."

Harry gritted his teeth but pushed the door open and beckoned Theo into the room. Voldemort was alone inside his throne room, leaning over a table lined with tables and large tomes. Books were even splayed at the foot of his throne, opened and seemingly discarded from whatever Voldemort was working on. The Dark Lord looked up and Harry could have sworn the room got colder.

"…Ah," Voldemort called out softly. His voice echoed somewhere in the darkness. "The coward returns, I see."

Theo gave him a puzzled glance and Harry felt heat creep up his neck. He hated himself for it – he had done nothing wrong.

"I was fairly certain you'd come after me," Harry admitted. "It – "

"I have no time for cowards."

Harry winced, but refused to be cowed; this was not about him.

"Cantankerous Nott attempted to hurt Theo last night," Harry said quietly. "Came at him with a wand and was drunk as well. Theo killed him in defense."

A flicker of something crossed Voldemort's red eyes as he stood up and examined Theo. It was gone, though, once he looked back to Harry.

"I see," Voldemort said airily. "And what favor is it that you're asking of Lord Voldemort?"

Harry paused, looking at Voldemort oddly. "I am capable of wiping Theo's home clear of evidence, but I cannot do anything that would explain the disappearance of his father. Theo needs your help – help that you promised him, I might add, should the situation arise."

While the previous emotion was harder to read, the twinge of anger was clearly visible as it crossed Voldemort's face. It seemed he did not appreciate being reminded of that fact, but Harry did not exactly appreciate Voldemort's attitude, either. It was childish.

The coldness that Voldemort had been treating him with was gone as Voldemort moved around the table to stand directly in front of him.

"If I required someone to repeat my words back to me, I would hire one, Potter," Voldemort whispered dangerously.

"Then don't ask such silly questions," Harry snapped back defensively at the Dark Lord. Theo snatched at the sleeve of Harry's dressing gown, pleading to him with wide eyes. Harry shut his own and took a deep breath.

"Look," Harry said measuredly, trying his hardest to calm down. "I apologize, okay? I'm just here for Theo and to ask you to help him."

Voldemort stared wordlessly at Harry for a moment before focusing on Theo. "What did you use to kill your father?"

"I-I thrust a sword into his neck, my Lord."

"And is the rest of him still intact?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded in satisfaction, waving an arm distractedly to vanish his research table before running the same hand over his left forearm. Harry had seen that gesture enough to know what Voldemort was doing; he was summoning a specific Death Eater.

For a moment, Harry had a sick feeling of dread that Voldemort was summoning Bellatrix Lestrange. But as Voldemort took his place upon his throne, Barty Crouch entered the room.

"Yes, my Lord? How may I be able to serve you?"

Voldemort turned to face his Death Eater with a measured expression. "You may serve me by going to the Nott household, Barty. You will find the dead body of Cantankerous Nott. I want you to harvest his corpse for anything that could be used in a Polyjuice Potion, and then I want you to clean that house of all evidence of foul play. Burn the body. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord," Crouch looked startled, glancing first to Harry and then to Theo. "Unless there is anything else you require - ?"

Voldemort smiled humorlessly. "Actually, wait here for a moment, Barty." The Dark Lord's red eyes turned to Harry, reminding him of fire.

"If you want me to help your friend, Harry, you will go to my office. _Now_."

Harry frowned, tilting his head. "That is not part of your promise to Theo. This isn't about me – you and I can talk later. Right now, I want to help –"

"You go to my office, or I turn Theodore Nott into the Aurors for murder _myself_."

Harry's breath left him and time seemed to stop for a moment. His shock morphed into suffocating fury at the sight of Voldemort's satisfied sneer.

"Fine," Harry growled stepping up to Voldemort to look him in the eye. "Anything for Theo."

Voldemort smiled smugly, nodding to Crouch without looking at him. "Thank you for your patience, Barty. You may go. As should you…Harry. My office. Run along."

"Yes, my Lord," Crouch hastened away, scurrying from the tense scene as fast as his feet could shuffle. Harry pursed his lips, but gave Theo a brief hug.

"I mean it – anything for you, Theo," Harry murmured into his ear. "We'll take care of you." Harry let him go, smiling as best he could before sending Voldemort his most righteous glare. And then he stormed out of the throne room with a loud slam of the door.

"Absolutely juvenile," Voldemort muttered, staring at the door in mild contempt.

Theo was shivering. He was alone. He had killed his father, and now stood in the room with the Lord who had been his father's master.

"I do apologize for my bluff, Theodore," Voldemort spoke softly to him. "I lied when I said that I would turn you in to the Ministry – I would never do that. However…your friend is very predictable, you see. And I find myself needing to be firm with him much more often, these days."

Theo nodded vigorously, looking to the ground. "You did what you thought best, my Lord. I could never fault you for that."

"Liar," Voldemort chuckled, rubbing the boy's shoulder. "Of course you could, had I actually decided to turn you in. But as I said, I would never do that. Lord Voldemort always keeps his promises, especially to those who are loyal to him. Have you eaten this morning?"

"…No, my Lord."

"Then I shall arrange for a meal," Voldemort said simply. "Come. I shall lead you to a room where you can eat your fill and rest comfortably. And after I meet with Harry Potter, you and I shall speak and sort everything out. Feel no fear, Theodore."

"T-Thank you, my Lord. I really mean it."

Voldemort looked down at the boy, trembling in place but with open, honest eyes directed at him. He wrapped an encouraging arm around Theo's shoulders.

"You are most welcome."

* * *

Harry shut the door to Voldemort's office quietly, turning around and leaning on the door. He was doing his best to keep his anger under control, despite Voldemort's behavior before. It was _humiliating_ to be treated that way in front of Theo. But Harry had swallowed his pride and let it happen; Theo needed him, and Harry was willing to suffer for his friend.

But now? Now Voldemort would get the talk that he clearly wanted. And while Harry would do his best to keep his anger in check, they would most certainly clear the air.

Harry sighed and started to move from the door to settle on the comfortable leather couch opposite of Voldemort's desk – but then he noticed the research table from Voldemort's throne room. Curious, he ambled over to the table to peer at the books.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered under his breath. There were no letters or words inside the pages of the books. Instead, blurry squiggles covered the pages, completely indecipherable. Harry racked his brain for a counter to whatever charm Voldemort had laid upon these books, but he could not think of anything. He huffed as annoyance tickled his already provoked temper; it was unlike Voldemort to be so secretive about something as simple as books.

The door opened then and Harry started, turning to face Voldemort. The Dark Lord paid him no mind though, settling in at his desk and drawing his quill from the inkwell. Harry blinked at the lack of fanfare.

"So…" Harry trailed off, confused. "Here we are, then."

But Voldemort did not even acknowledge him. Harry squinted and cocked his head, quickly becoming agitated.

Well then. If Voldemort wanted to play it like that…

"You have an amazing couch, I must say," Harry drawled, leaping over the back of it to sit down. "Quite comfortable. I may just have to prop up my feet and –"

"Do it and you will no longer have said feet."

Harry smirked, feeling victorious; Voldemort hated when Harry put his feet on his couch.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Harry laughed softly, sobering a moment later. "Look…I know what you were trying to do. You're trying to teach me a lesson –"

"Am I? And what lesson would that be?" Voldemort continued writing, bent over whatever it was that he was working on.

"That I can't just do things on my own – "

"That is not even close – "

"But," Harry pressed on, talking over the Dark Lord. "Here's the thing, Voldemort. Firstly, I was in the right last night! You know it, I know it – Bellatrix was _wrong_."

Voldemort scoffed and stood suddenly; Harry was back on his feet in an instant. The Dark Lord growled deep in his chest.

"And what gives you the authority to make that call?" Voldemort whispered, glaring down at him.

Harry snorted incredulously. "Simply knowing how you want to change the world and how you feel about others disobeying you – "

"Like you explicitly did yesterday evening?" Voldemort spat at him. "You want to talk about lessons, Potter? Well here's a lesson you are going to learn before you leave this office or you will pay dearly: I hold the power, Potter! It is _my_ right to order _my_ Death Eaters. It is _my_ right to punish them or to reward them. Not yours!"

"Bellatrix was wrong – "

"And it's not your fucking place to make that decision!" Voldemort roared. Something in the office shattered, startling Harry as he tripped over the corner of the couch. "It is mine! I punished her accordingly for her actions, Potter, as I would have without you stepping in!"

"Look, I – "

"You challenged my position! You dishonored my authority! You made a mockery of my power, just as you did minutes ago by acting like a fool in front of Theodore Nott and Barty Crouch! You were _wrong_, Potter!"

Voldemort's voice was making Harry's ears ring. Harry had one hand in his dressing gown, clutching his wand. The stark silence that settled in the room was nearly as intimidating as Voldemort's screams.

"…It seems that I have treated you incorrectly, Harry," Voldemort murmured, suddenly quiet as he turned away from Harry. "It was my belief that you could actually act as an adult, considering our relationship. I've given you everything that you have – power, allies, a proper place in our world…even your godfather. I gave him his innocence. And apparently that's not enough for Harry Potter."

Harry pursed his lips as humiliation trickled into his stomach. He said nothing as Voldemort finally turned around.

"Perhaps it's time to stop treating you as Harry Potter, the boy who allowed me to restore my body," Voldemort intoned quietly. "Perhaps it's time to treat you as your behavior would dictate."

"That's not fair –"

"SILENCE!" Voldemort roared, invading Harry's personal space before he could even process what happened. "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK UNLESS I INSTRUCT YOU TO, POTTER!"

Harry turned his face from Voldemort's panted breaths. He gripped his wand tightly – this was getting out of control very quickly. Any moment things could combust –

Sharp nails scraped his scalp and Harry's head was wrenched to look into red eyes. Harry cried in protest, reaching out to shove Voldemort away - and suddenly the world spun as a sharp blow shook his head and momentarily blinded his vision.

"You bastard!" Harry spat, rubbing his temple and jaw. Evil eyes smoldered at him.

"Kneel before me, Potter," Voldemort growled. "Just like all the others. Kneel before your Lord."

Harry stood straight and looked straight into those unforgiving eyes. Anger and frustration pumped throughout his body. "You know I'll never do that."

"Then I'll _make_ you. _Imperio_!"

The pain in his head faded into a clouded feeling of contentment. Harry's breaths came easier, fuller than they had all morning. The tension between his shoulders relaxed and his eyes rolled back for a moment before they opened on their own volition.

'_Bow down on both knees_.'

His body moved before his mind could even register – it was only at the last moment that Harry caught himself. '_I'd never do that. Why should I now?_'

'_Bow down. Bow before your Lord_.'

'_I don't think I will, thanks_.'

'_BOW BEFORE ME!_'

"FUCK YOU!" Harry screamed, charging forwards. Voldemort's eyes widened as Harry crashed into him, sending them both sprawling into the door of the office. Harry clenched a fist, driving it into Voldemort's stomach once, twice, a third time –

Pure magic blasted him across to the other side of the office, slamming into a bookshelf. Harry slumped down to the ground, laughing despite the pain.

"Who else could do what I just did, Voldemort?" Harry grinned without humor. "You want to treat me like a Death Eater? I ask you: Who else?"

Voldemort rubbed his stomach slightly, standing tall. But the anger was gone and an odd look took its place. "You know, I came into this room intending to humble you. I was going to do to you what I would do to any other Death Eater who embarrassed me the way that you have. But for every frustrating moment you cause me, Potter, you go and do something like that."

Harry chuckled, even as his back seared in pain. "I'm just a fuck-up from a Muggle orphanage who is pretty good at this magic thing, right? Who the fuck thought I'd be good at taking directions?"

Voldemort grimaced with distaste. "It's not nearly as vulgar as that, Potter. I do not ask my Death Eaters to blindly follow me. I ask them to commit – just like you committed yourself to my cause a year ago."

"I am committed, but when you don't take care of a situation – "

"You have to trust me, Potter!" Voldemort stressed, growling at the end of his sentence as frustration leaked through. "You have to trust that I will take care of the situation!"

An open hand appeared in Harry's sight. He stared at it for a moment before taking it as Voldemort pulled him to his feet. That very same hand landed on his shoulder a moment later.

"Harry, I know you better than anyone else ever will," Voldemort started lowly. "You hosted my soul for months. I came to know you during that time, but I've also suffered a similar childhood. I know how difficult it is to trust others. I really do. When others have caused you to suffer, when others have controlled your life…trust is a foreign thing. It's not something you do if you value your own safety.

Voldemort shook him. "Trust is a release of control. I understand how hard it is to release control to someone else, Harry, but this is _my_ revolution. These are _my_ Death Eaters. Not yours. Do you have any idea how embarrassing your fit was last night? I am a man who's led this cause for decades now…but apparently that's not good enough for one thirteen year-old boy."

Harry gritted his teeth. "It was never about any of that –"

"It was about you taking control of a situation when you should have deferred to me."

"She wronged me!"

"AND I AM THE MASTER OF BOTH OF YOU!" Voldemort roared. "When one of my followers wrong you, Potter, it is up to me to handle the issue! How can we work together to inspire change in our world if we cannot even sort out our own issues?"

"I'm sorry, okay?!" Harry shouted hotly. "Is that what you want? You want me to take the blame?"

"No! I want you to let me fight your battles for you!" Voldemort clawed at his dressing gown, insistently shaking it. "I need you to trust me, Harry. If this is ever going to work, you have to trust me to handle these issues. Come talk to me afterwards if you must. Air your grievances. But for this to work, I have to act on your behalf."

"…It's not easy," Harry muttered lowly. "I've never – "

"You've never had to do that before. I understand. But you committed yourself to my cause, Harry. Trust me. Allow me to prove that I am worthy of that commitment."

Harry slumped against the wall. His emotions had burned out. All he felt now was a weary consternation. "…I let my temper get to me last night. I am sorry."

Voldemort cocked his head, but laid his hand on Harry's shoulder once again. "Have you learned your lesson? Can we grow from this? If so, we'll forget it ever happened."

Harry nodded mutely. He did not regret his decision to make Bellatrix pay last night…but he was glad that Voldemort had met him halfway on the issue. He did not dismiss the fact that Bellatrix was wrong, at least. Voldemort wanted the chance to prove that he was capable of handling Harry's problems for him from time to time – and honestly, that was much better than any adult that had controlled Harry's life in the past.

"What are you researching?" Harry asked suddenly, nodding to the charmed table. "It's not like you to protect your research so much."

"None of your fucking business," Voldemort smirked. There was a teasing lilt to his voice, making Harry smile. "Will you trust me on this one, Harry? I'll let you know if the research leads anywhere; this is a chance to show that you are capable of trusting me."

Harry shut his eyes and grimaced, shaking his head. "I hate that. I hate having to trust someone like that…fine. It's not easy, you know."

"I did not trust a soul until I was in my twenties," Voldemort admitted. "And even then, I only trusted that those subservient to me would do their jobs properly. It's part of our past. I'm not asking you to change, Harry. I'm merely asking you to grow and mature. You will be my most powerful ally…someday. But your temper and penchant for acting without thinking is holding you back from reaching your full potential."

"How long did it take you to learn those things?" Harry asked curiously. Voldemort snorted slightly.

"Years," He said. "It is time for you to go, Harry. I will be in touch soon. I will take care of Theodore and instruct him to write you as well. It is in my intention to have Theodore join my Death Eaters someday. I would like you to help foster that relationship."

That was something he could handle. Harry nodded. "Sounds simple enough. I'll talk to him about killing –"

"No," Voldemort replied forcefully. "Allow me. I am better suited to have that conversation to give Theodore context."

"Right," Harry ducked his head. His limbs were sore and stiff from hitting damn near every wall in Voldemort's office. Besides, he wanted to get back to Sirius and Remus. "Tell Theo I said goodbye, okay?"

Voldemort smiled slightly, nodding his head. "Go on, Potter. Go enjoy your Christmas. Great things are on the horizon, but I think they can wait one more day."

* * *

Finding time to write this story is difficult. The chapters are longer and it takes several hours of planning and then several more hours of writing. I'll do my best to manage that process better.

Until next time...which will be sooner than the last time. I promise.

Brigade


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